Harry Potter and the Shadow of the Demon
by ArlyssTolero
Summary: A mad plan two decades in the making has finally come to fruition and Ra's al Ghul, formerly Harry Potter, awakens in his 14-year-old body, intent on cleansing the Light and the Dark of those corrupting them. To do so, he becomes The Phoenix, and soon discovers that there is a new responsibility on his shoulders: to lead the magical equivalent of the League of Assassins.
1. The Ritual

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow or Harry Potter._**

**_A/N: For a long time, I've more or less ended up cultivating a reputation of someone who starts stories, rarely finishes them, and often deletes them. I'm trying to get out of that habit and in the spirit of that, I'm restoring one of the few completed works I had which I was able to recover thanks to the Internet. Sadly, the old addage that nothing completely dies thanks to the Internet isn't quite true because I've tried to find ways to retrieve other works I had completed with no luck. _**

**_This story is completely finished and will have a daily upload. Please note that while this story was finished, I wasn't completely satisfied with it. _**

**_This story was originally posted as an answer to DZ2's "Queen's Syndrome" challenge and I see no reason to change that. _**

Harry Potter and the Shadow of the Demon

By

ArlyssTolero

Chapter 1:

The Ritual

"My lord, the process is nearly complete," an assassin stood near the robed figure said, watching his master carefully as the man who was known to the wizarding world as Harry Potter and to the mundane world as Ra's al Ghul observed the silent grounds of what had once been the campus of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hogwarts, and indeed wizarding Britain, no longer existed aside from those who had joined Ra's' service after his takeover. Diagon Alley stood silent, the Goblins of Gringotts having transferred to other branches, the Ministry of Magic deep underground was a mass grave of all those who had been in the Ministry when Ra's had ascended through the proper method. Unlike Al Sah-Him, or Oliver Queen/Green Arrow, he wasn't going to waste his time on saving the decadent society the British wizarding world had become.

"Good," Ra's said smoothly. "Ensure our sentries keep a watchful eye. While the Justice League will head for Nanda Parbat first, they may discover us before the process is finished and the ritual begun. If that happens, all effort must be made to stop them."

"It will be as you command, my lord," the assassin replied with a bow and departed. Ra's continued to observe the grounds of the place he had once called his home and remembered when he had made the choice to destroy the decadent society of his ancestors.

After the Final Battle of the Blood War, as people had come to call it, Harry had watched as the society slowly slipped back into the same old things. He had expected Hermione Granger, at least, to take offense at what was being done. But when he really thought about it, it made sense she was fine with what happened. She had Obliviated her own family, after all, and even if she had said it was because she wanted to keep them safe and not have them worry about her being in the Blood War, Harry had noticed that Hermione had not spoken often of her parents since around their third year.

The new laws being passed, the ones Harry had been sure Hermione would take offense to, included using the Ministry's record of magical births (kept in the Department of Mysteries) to track down Muggle-born witches and wizards as newborns and replace them with Squibs born to pureblood families where possible, and Obliviate the memories of those who they couldn't replace. This would get rid of the Muggle-like filth (Squibs) and with blood adoptions in play, the Muggleborns would become wizards and witches of noble birth. It was a compromise between the Light and the Dark in order avoid further war.

Harry had argued several times with both Ron and Hermione about this, but they had refused to budge on their belief the Ministry knew what was best since it was Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister of Magic with most of the negative influences (like Lucius Malfoy) now incarcerated in Azkaban. Harry had still stood as best man at Ron and Hermione's wedding, but shortly after he had found his tolerance for the wizarding world at its breaking point. His best friends, the people who had stood by him as he fought against bigotry, had not only supported the Ministry endeavor to switch out Squibs and Muggleborns, but taken part in it, blood-adopting a Muggle-born newborn.

After hearing of that, Harry had recast the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place, locked up his vaults within Gringotts, and left Wizarding Britain, intent on hunting down Antonin Dolohov, who had managed to escape British authorities. His reasoning? Bellatrix was already dead, but one of those who had left his godson an orphan was still out there, and no one in the British Ministry seemed all that interested in tracking down the remaining Death Eaters who had managed to flee Britain.

Harry had cut a bloody swath through Europe, taking down every single Dark wizard who had aided Dolohov, interrogating them and then leaving their gutted remains in the dark quarters of wizarding commercial districts. He had finally caught up to Dolohov in the court of Ra's al Ghul, where the man was attempting to curry the favor of the Demon. Ra's, however, had seen something in Harry even then, and allowed him to deal out justice against Dolohov. Then Ra's had taken him on a tour of Nanda Parbat with his young daughter, Nyssa, alongside, had spoken of how the League knew of the world of magic, had monitored the situation in Britain. Ra's had told Harry that like Harry, he had killed his first man at the age of eleven, how he had replaced evil with death, and suggested that perhaps Harry's path had always meant to lead to Nanda Parbat.

If he had said that to the Harry that hadn't been through the Blood War, Harry might have balked at what Ra's was suggesting, but the man who had watched the wizarding world decide to separate families and steal children for their own purposes felt a sense of kinship with a man seen by many of the mundane world who were 'in the know' to be evil, and sworn his allegiance to the League of Assassins, taking up the name of Al-Anqua, or the Phoenix due to his death and resurrection.

Al Anqua had trained under Ra's and Al-Owal, and when he combined his weaponry and martial arts with his magic, he had proven a formidable force, one strong enough to finally bring in a traitor to the League: Damien Darhk. He had captured the man at Ra's' request and delivered him for judgment. Upon doing so, he had been granted the title of Horseman, Ra's' right-hand, a position he had maintained from that point (1999) until January of 2015, when Ra's had taken an interest the guardian of Starling City, Oliver Queen. Al Anqua had seen others who became so focused on prophecy, had been one himself, that he could not support the actions Ra's was taking and gone rogue, working with the Arrow and his team.

He had aided in the capture of Nyssa, trained Laurel Lance, and executed Al Sa-Her when it became clear Queen could not do so out of some misguided filial loyalty. Al Anqua had helped keep the bio-weapon Sarab had brought to the League from spreading and when Ra's had been killed and Queen held the ring, Queen had handed the ring to Al Anqua, recognizing that Nyssa would continue the feud she had with the bloodline of Al Sa-Her. Now Ra's al Ghul, the man once known as Harry Potter had no qualms about removing a threat to his power base. Far too many people, he had thought after cleaving Nyssa's head from her shoulders, would leave their enemies in plain sight, believing it better to watch them then get rid of them. The newly elevated Ra's was not one of those people.

Then had come the moment Ra's had waited for. His return to the wizarding world. He had used the Alpha-Omega on Diagon Alley, deployed his assassins into the Ministry of Magic, and personally assaulted Hogsmeade (carefully ensuring he didn't use magic at all) and as a result driving the magicals to their stronghold: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The magicals had, of course, believed they were facing Squibs and Muggles who had discovered their twenty-year action of stealing magical children from the Muggle world and replacing them with Squibs. Ra's had led his men into the Castle using the passageways that were not as well-known, those that he had discovered with the Marauder's Map all those years ago and scouted out himself to ensure they were unblocked.

**_*HPDC*_**

_Two Years Ago_

Ra's al Ghul crushed down the nostalgia that warred within him as he walked the halls of Hogwarts again, looking down at the Map that he held in his hand. The remaining witches and wizards were holed up in the Great Hall. Ra's had prepared for this moment during those months of exile while the previous Ra's had courted Oliver Queen, returning to Starling when he needed to. He had discovered the changes since his departure almost 20 years earlier, including the fact that the Great Hall no longer had doors. Only a Siege Shield was in place now, to keep intruders at bay. An upstart Dark wizard had attempted to attack Hogwarts some years ago. While he had ultimately failed, his attack had been on the Great Hall and the doors had crushed nearly two dozen students sitting at the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. Ever since, they had depended on the Runic-based Siege Shield, designed by Hermione Granger-Weasley, to defend against attacks. Believing the attackers to be Muggles and Squibs, the magicals no doubt thought themselves safe behind the Siege Shield.

Ra's placed the map away in the mokeskin pouch he wore around his neck, the same pouch he had worn during his travels during and after the Blood War. He wondered if Hermione and Ron would recognize it after all this time. The assassins were clad in their standard armor and cowls, while Ra's himself wore that plus a stylized cape that denoted his rank. Unlike the robes Ra's normally wore, this allowed him some semblance of movement and gave him something to use to absorb incoming projectiles (or even spells, since it was made of acromantula silk). The assassins arrived in front of the large opening that led to the Great Hall, and Ra's stepped forward, examining the Runes briefly before turning his attention to the occupants of the Hall itself.

The teachers of Hogwarts along with the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix stood as a defense against the invaders should they breach the Siege Shield. In the forefront were Minerva McGonagall, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger-Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. "You won't pass any further," Hermione said as she eyed the man standing on the other side of her pride and joy, feeling particularly smug. "It would take an incredibly powerful wizard to even begin to break that shield, so I doubt an army of Squibs armed with archaic weaponry can do it."

"It is an ingenious design," Ra's said, watching as Hermione preened, "but you are operating under a mistaken assumption."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, still feeling a bit of smugness, though something was nagging at the back of her mind.

"I am no Squib," Ra's replied, and with a flick of his wrist, the Elder Wand was in his grasp. He launched a bolt of pure magic at the Shield, focusing his intent on piercing it, shattering that which blocked his way. The Shield held up only momentarily before detonating inward from the sheer force Ra's was bringing to bear on it. The blast knocked the defenders backward, and the League poured in, taking up positions from which they could launch arrows, throwing knives, throwing stars and cut down their adversaries. Ra's walked calmly into the Great Hall, watching as Hermione and Ron staggered to their feet. Neville helped McGonagall to her feet.

"W-who are you?" Hermione stammered. "No one could have gotten through that shield!"

"As always, my old friend," Ra's began, reaching up to remove his cowl, "you believe in what your books and numbers tell you, never embracing that magic is more than alignment, more than design, more than patterns. It is _power._"

The cowl fell away, revealing the face of Ra's al Ghul to the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron's expressions grew horrified, Neville looked thunderstruck, and McGonagall collapsed again. The shock of another successful assault on Hogwarts and the discovery the leader of the attack was none other than the son of two of her favored students was too much for the aging woman's heart. "Hello, _Hermione_. I believe the last time we spoke, you mentioned that you had chosen to steal a child from the Muggle world because, according to the Ministry, it was _the right thing_."

"Harry," Hermione breathed out in fear.

"I'm sorry, but Harry Potter is dead," Ra's replied coldly. "He died when he killed Antonin Dolohov. He became Al Anqua, the Phoenix, and has since ascended to Ra's al Ghul, the Demon's Head, whose presence you now stand in the presence of."

Just as the League knew of the magical world, the magical world knew of the League, and nearly every adult in the room felt as though someone had just walked on their grave. The League operated at the order of Ra's al Ghul, and if Harry Potter was Ra's al Ghul, then Ra's al Ghul despised the British Wizarding World. "W-What are you going to do?" Ron asked.

"It is the tradition of the League of Assassins that when a new Ra's ascends, he destroys his past," Ra's said simply. "Goodbye, my old friends." Ra's delivered a cutting curse to Hermione's chest, cutting off whatever outraged comment she was about to make and replacing it with a bloody sputtering, and threw a shuriken into Ron's throat. As those he once called his two best friends collapsed in their death throes, Ra's drew his blade and met the strike from Gryffindor's sword that had come from Neville Longbottom. Ra's circled his blade around Gryffindor's sharply, pulling it out of Neville's hand. The other man had only a moment to show his surprise before Ra's' blade entered his chest. Blood dribbled from Neville's mouth as the cries of the remaining magical adults were cut short by the League of Assassins.

**_*HPDC*_**

_Present Day_

Only the students had been left alive, and only those who swore their allegiance to Ra's on their magic were allowed to leave Hogwarts that day. Since then, aside from his brief aid to Oliver Queen and his allies against Talia al Ghul (who had seized control of H.I.V.E. after Darhk's death) and the Dominators, Ra's had been focused on a personal project. The destruction of British Wizarding Society had been necessary for Ra's to claim his spot (the rest of the League might well have rebelled otherwise) but his ascendancy to Ra's had simply been a stepping stone to fulfilling a plan he had had for years, since he had read about rituals in Nanda Parbat's archives, archives the previous Ra's had let him use so he could be an efficient assassin in the use of magic as well as their standard weapons.

Ra's sensed that the first step of the ritual, the excitation of the ley lines had been completed. Now, it was time for the second step: channeling his own magical power. For that to happen, he would need to enter the heart of Hogwarts itself, otherwise known as the Room of Requirement. Departing the Astronomy Tower, where he had been observing the grounds of Hogwarts, Ra's headed for the Seventh Floor and the Room of Requirement. From this point forward, it would be up to his assassins to keep any interlopers busy. The Room would keep anyone from entering the Heart of Hogwarts once he entered.

The Justice League did indeed try to stop Ra's, but by the time they arrived, Ra's was firmly ensconced in the Room of Requirement and even Supergirl could not seem to find a way to get to him. As Hogwarts erupted beneath them, the Justice League could only wonder, "What was Ra's' purpose in destroying the entire world using the ley lines?"

**_*HPDC*_**

_August 1994_

Emerald eyes snapped open as the glow that had surrounded the maltreated teenager's body faded. Rising from his horizontal position, the young man cast off his raggedy blankets and pulled his shirt up, examining himself in the mirror. His pale skin had a healthy color to it now, his green eyes sparkled with the pain of his life in the next century, and his memories swirled.

Harry Potter, formerly Ra's al Ghul, gave what could only be described as a maniacal grin as he felt the magic of the Hallows still within him. A tattoo in the form of the Hallows symbol was on his chest. Concentrating, he turned invisible without any trouble. A twitch of his hand and he briefly summoned the spirit of Rebecca Merlyn before dismissing her. He would only keep a ghost around that he required advice from, and Rebecca Merlyn was not that. Finally, he raised his hand and channeled magic into them, watching as it arced between his fingers. He was still the Master of Death and his body was honed to a deadly edge like it had been in the future.

Now he could work on his true end goal: destroying those who had laid the groundwork for what happened after the Blood War. Light and Dark alike were his targets. None of them would survive the burning wrath of The Phoenix. First things first, though:

It was time to go Diagon Alley. He had some orders to put in at various places.

**_A/N: Now, to answer some potential burning questions:_**

**_Aside from a few changes here or there and some editing regarding spelling and/or grammar, this story is the same as when I posted it in 2017. _**

**_I have kept mentions of the Arrowverse characters and situations purposely vague so if I decide to do an AU (a high possibility considering my strong dislike of the direction the Arrowverse as a whole has taken towards melodrama in replacement of solid story), I can do so. _**

**_As far as Harry's timeline is concerned: _**

**_May 1998 – Battle of Hogwarts_**

**_June 1999 – Harry leaves Britain in disgust_**

**_May 2000 – Harry kills Dolohov in Nanda Parbat and joins the League of Assassins_**

**_May 2015 – Harry becomes Ra's al Ghul after the previous Ra's is killed by Oliver Queen in Starling City_**

**_Sometime in 2020 – Ra's performs the ritual to send his consciousness back in time to 1994_**


	2. Preparations

**_A/N: Seeing as there's some confusion as to my identity, I've updated my profile with a brief overview of my history on FFN. _**

**_Tess: I don't write slash, so, no, pairing Harry and Oliver together never occurred to me. _**

Chapter 2:

Preparations

Harry Potter entered Gringotts three hours after awakening in the past, a cap pulled down to cover his scar. Waiting in line for a few minutes, Harry found himself in front of a familiar teller and to resist the urge to whip out his wand and shoot a curse right in the lying little scum's throat. It was more difficult to resist than Harry had expected, but his mind instantly realized why: _hormones_. His mind might be that of a thirty-eight-year-old, but his body was that of a fourteen-year-old. He hadn't considered that factor. Ugh, did this mean he was going to get overly emotional about stupid things again? Or that he was going to start agonizing over some girl, which would be very, _very_ awkward considering he had the mind of a thirty-eight-year-old man and not a fourteen-year-old boy? If it did mean that, he might have to spend most of his time aged up and find a way to drop out of Hogwarts.

Harry shoved his thoughts down for the time being and pulled out his key. "I would like to visit my vault," he said firmly, placing his key on the desk. Griphook looked at it, looked at Harry, and nodded sharply. He gestured to a nearby goblin, who approached as Harry's key was returned to him. For the time being, he would have to make use of his trust vault. Once the Tournament began and his name was drawn out of the Goblet of Fire, he would be able to argue for emancipation, and even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to block it. Sure, he might try, but this wasn't a local tournament they were conducting. If it became known they had tried to block a participant in an international tournament from being emancipated, as was his right due to being in a contest for only wizards and witches who were considered adults, then Britain would become a laughingstock. Dumbledore would have to let the Ministry and goblins have their way. Luckily, Harry would have more than enough in his trust vault to handle things. Sadly, he would still have to go to the World Cup with the Weasleys and Hermione. He needed to be there when the Death Eaters were on the march.

Having retrieved the gold necessary for his planned purchases, Harry left Gringotts and headed for Twilfit and Tattings, the upper-class robe shop. He would need to look the part of the young, upstanding wizard he technically was to pull off his next visit in Knockturn Alley. Removing the cap that he was wearing, Harry was greeted by the attendant, who took one look at his scar and then asked, "How can Twilfit and Tattings help you today, Mr. Potter?"

"I need a full week's set of day-to-day robes, open style so I can blend into the Muggle world as needed," Harry replied. "One set I need to wear out of the shop."

"Do you have specific colors in mind?" asked the attendant as she led Harry to the measuring stool, where a seamstress was waiting.

"I'll let you ladies decide that," Harry said. "I know where my strengths lie, and matching colors and styles aren't one of them."

It took about an hour for Harry to get done with the first set of wizardwear, but he exited the shop in a pair of forest green robes of a similar make to Snape's. The other robes would be crafted and posted to him by the end of the week. Now looking the part of a proper wizard for the sake of the denizens of Knockturn Alley, Harry ducked into the 'Dark alley' of the British wizarding world's commercial district, heading for Morrigan's Combat Customs, a custom-fit shop for combat-oriented robes. In his previous life, this had been where Harry went to get the robes he used when chasing Dolohov and the other Dark wizards who had escaped Britain in the aftermath of the Blood War.

Entering the shop, he found the proprietor (the titular Morrigan) waiting for a customer to come in. "Ah, welcome, young one," the woman said, her almost melodic voice having an amused lilt to it. "What brings you into my shop today?" No doubt she thought him a competitor in the Junior Dueling circuit, an organization he had learned of only after his time at Hogwarts had ended for one simple reason: it was something you had to be entered into by your magical guardian. Though that at least answered the question of why Draco Malfoy had never been entered into it; even Lucius Malfoy wouldn't want his son entered into that competition because unlike Draco, Lucius was well-aware of his son's shortcomings in comparison to his boasting.

"I have a design I'd like you to craft," Harry replied coolly, keeping his tone professional as he withdrew the sheet of parchment that he had sketched his idea out on during the trip to the Leaky Cauldron via the Knight Bus. A little-known service the Bus provided was a Stabilizing Charm, allowing the passenger to not be tossed about. Harry had paid for the extra service and had been unsurprised by Stan Shunpike's look of disappointment. This fit with Harry's summation of the man: weak-willed, low intellect (and thus easily amused by the misfortunes of others), and not very skilled. The Stabilizing Charm itself was tied into the bus's workings and merely required a tap of the wand and payment at the end of service.

Morrigan took the offered parchment, her eyebrows raising as she looked over the design. This was no mere idle fancy of a teenage boy looking to one-up his competition. This was the serious consideration of someone who knew magical conflict and who was preparing for as many eventualities as possible. A tunic and leggings made of dragon-hide with an acromantula silk underlay to keep it from chafing, along with a cowl and cape, again made of acromantula silk. Morrigan knew why the young man in front of her was coming to her with this; an outfit like this would be rather distinctive, and if he was planning something that would disrupt the status quo of society, he couldn't go to either Twilfit and Tattings or Madam Malkin's, as they had agreements to provide purchase information to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Morrigan, on the other hand, had a binding contract with the International Confederation of Wizards which allowed her to operate this shop without oversight from the British Ministry of Magic, which decided what was and was not illegal on the whims of whomever paid the most bribes to the current Minister. Morrigan had chosen Knockturn Alley for her location because it meant only those who were serious about their purchases and weren't afraid to tell the Ministry to bugger off would come. Unsurprisingly, she made a decent profit not from Dark wizards (as one would expect given her location) but from the Unspeakables, the Hit-Wizards, and even a few Aurors as well as well-to-do private citizens.

"I shall get to work on this immediately," Morrigan said, eyeing the young man in front of her thoughtfully. She recognized the scar, of course, and she suspected he had made certain she saw it. "I will send it via Gringotts' secured postal service."

"Thank you, Madam Morrigan," Harry replied, offering her a slight bow before departing. He had one more stop to make before he returned to Privet Drive. Knockturn Alley, he had discovered once the Alpha-Omega bioweapon had cleared it, actually had a remarkable little shop that sold 'Muggle weapons'. Not guns, no; swords, knives, all the nice kinds of weapons that Harry, as an assassin, needed. These would have to do until he became emancipated, at which point he could commission a set from the goblins.

**_*HPDC*_**

Harry reflected on the past week or so as he followed the Weasleys from the stands at the Quidditch World Cup, listening to Fred and George excitedly plan what they would use their winnings for, unaware that Ludo Bagman would be paying them back in leprechaun gold. Unlike the last time, Harry would not be helping the twins in their endeavors; he had other plans in place for his winnings when he won the Tournament. The Weasleys had _all_ stood by as the Ministry decreed it was okay to steal Muggle-born babes from their parents. Every single one of them, whether by blood or marriage, were no longer worthy of Harry's alliance.

After receiving his new combat gear that he would use as The Phoenix, his chosen moniker, Harry had returned to Diagon Alley and purchased a three-compartment trunk. The first contained all of his school supplies; the second contained his small but growing library of magical and non-magical books; and the final compartment, which could be used as a living space, had been turned into his portable headquarters. A glass case held his outfit, while a small desk held a notebook containing the list of names of everyone that he knew of who had helped pass the Magical Child Relocation Bill, as well as those who had inspired them or supported the endeavor.

Harry couldn't help but find it somewhat humorous that he was now using the same kind of method that Oliver Queen had when he first started out, but unlike Queen, he would actually be killing his targets, not giving them a chance to atone. Harry had searched the mind of Malcolm Merlyn before executing him and discovered that Adam Hunt, whom Queen had allowed to live, had been in the midst of trying to get back on top through criminal methods as he had before when Merlyn had killed him in an effort to draw Queen out. Even at his most lethal, Queen had been too willing to give scum the chance for atonement. Harry didn't have that problem.

Thanks to his position as Master of Death, Harry could cast most basic and moderate spells wandless, including things like switching charms, voice disguising like the Death Eaters had on their masks, and illusion-based magic. The last one would allow him to appear to be on fire before he Apparated. As the old saying in the League went: "Theatricality and deception are powerful tools against the uninitiated."

Harry knew that some would call his cleansing of the Light and Dark, a cleansing that needed to be done carefully for this first year, a heroic action, but he knew very well what was and was not considered heroic. A hero was willing to fight for the little guy and went out of their way not to take a life; an anti-hero was willing to take lives, but often held a short-sighted view of what they were aiming for. Harry knew very well that if he fit any role in the wizarding world or the mundane world, it was the roles of Dark Lord and supervillain. He wouldn't go out of his way to kill innocents, but he wouldn't hold back, either. He had seen that being a hero more often than not wasn't enough to galvanize a society into saving itself. Only a true threat could do that. He could be that for the wizarding world. As the Phoenix, he would drive the wizarding world to the brink and push them over the edge; they would either survive the fall and climb out of the decadent muck they had become or, like in the last timeline, he would cleanse every corner of British wizarding society.

Harry came out of his reverie when he heard his name being called. "Harry!" Hermione said again, and Harry kept his face carefully blank of his irritation. While she had been rather smug as an adult for good reasons, right now her voice was at that time when it was more than a bit grating due to changing pitches as she grew towards adulthood.

"Sorry, Hermione, what was it you asked?" Harry said, turning his attention to the girl.

"We were wondering what you thought of the match, mate," Ron said. "You just didn't seem all that into it. Being the House's Seeker I thought you'd at least have a comment about Lynch and Krum."

"I've just had a lot on my mind lately, Ron," Harry said. "We've gone through three years at Hogwarts that could honestly be described as hellish. Not because of the classes, but because of everything else. And after last year, I'm not sure I'm gonna keep going as Seeker. I think it's time I got serious about my studies."

"W-what?" Ron asked. Hermione, on the other hand, looked pleased that she had apparently broken through to Harry, though he could spot a bit of worry in her eyes. He wasn't sure if that was because she thought he was reacting badly and suggesting the adults couldn't handle what was happening or because she thought he might end up threatening her for the supposed top spot in their year at Hogwarts. "But you love Quidditch, mate!"

"I love flying," Harry corrected. "It helps me let go of my worries and problems, and just feel the wind on my face as I race as fast as I can. I can fly without playing Quidditch. It would only help if I was intending to play for a living, and I can't do that if whatever happens this year, or next year, or in the two years after that kills me."

Harry could see Ron's ears tinging red, a sign of his Weasley temper rising. "Mr. Weasley," he said, attracting the older wizard's attention. "I'm gonna take a walk to cool off. I'll make my way back to the tent on my own." He started off, before turning again and pointing a finger at Hermione, who had begun to follow him. "When I said on my own, I mean it, Hermione. I don't need you following along, nagging me with your opinion of whether I'm right to say what I say. There's this little thing called free will, you might've heard of it. Last I checked, I wasn't a slave to anyone, so I don't need to censor what I think just because you don't like what I have to say. I need to be alone, and I don't need you nagging me." Harry turned and walked away again, leaving a dumbfounded group who wondered what had happened to Harry.

**_A/N: Next chapter, The Phoenix makes his debut, but not in the way you might think._**


	3. The Advent of the Phoenix

_**A/N: I would remind everyone thanks to some of the content in this chapter that it was written in the early part of 2017 (roughly January to April). You'll know what I mean when you see it. **_

Chapter 3:

Advent of The Phoenix

Harry ducked into the woods after making sure he had lost anyone tailing him. He knew that the Weasleys and Hermione meant well, because they saw him as their friend and as someone who needed their help. But Harry was finding it difficult to stomach even being around the people who had willingly followed the post-War Ministry's mad plan. He knew, intellectually, that Fred Weasley was innocent in all of this, but from what Harry had seen of the Weasleys, Fred and George were equal collaborators and as a result, he was certain Fred would have gone along with the family and the Ministry as well. It was too bad, really; the Weasley Twins, with their genius level intellect and skill in constructing some truly fantastic toys, would have made for great suppliers of new magical weapons and/or gadgets to his alter ego.

If Harry remembered right, the Death Eaters had started their little bout of terror several hours after the match had ended. Harry had everything ready to go inside of his trunk, and all that was needed was for him to take a gulp of Aging Potion and perform a switching spell. His gear was enchanted to conform to his body mass and had his weapons and runestones (which he would use as both weapons and distractions) attached to it. Harry sank into a meditative position and allowed himself to drift away into a place where time was meaningless. Shoring up his Occlumency shields and re-organizing his memories was taking a bit of time since he had to decide which memories he would keep in the forefront. What did fourteen-year-old Harry Potter think of? What would he think of if he had decided to stop caring about things like Quidditch? It was a nice, intellectual puzzle to deal with while he waited. He needed some surface thoughts for the likes of Snape and Dumbledore to pick up so they wouldn't get suspicious, whereas the Phoenix would be a blank map.

Finally, Harry was brought out of his meditative state as screams started up. He smiled as he rose to his feet, retrieving a dose of Aging Potion which he dutifully swallowed. At the same time, he performed the Switching Spell with a twitch of his fingers, and instantly, Harry Potter vanished, and the now adult form of The Phoenix was in his place. The Obscuring Charm kept his eyes from being recognized, and the Modulating Charm would keep people from connecting his voice to the voice of his father when he had been older and gotten past the breaking point of teenage voices.

The Phoenix had a very specific target tonight, the only name _not_ on the List of those who had failed the magical world in the future (for he saw the compromise between Light and Dark with regards to Muggleborns and Squibs as failure on the part of the magical world). This name was more of a personal target, someone who had caused plenty of suffering in the future through his actions. Disillusioning himself, The Phoenix returned to the main camp and sought out his target, knowing he would be amongst the Ministry wizards trying to stop the drunken Death Eaters. The Phoenix spotted his target in the back of the Ministry wizards, directing efforts alongside Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour, and Albert Runcorn. The impeccable clothing, smoothed hair, and neatly trimmed moustache had The Phoenix wondering why people had never made the comparison between Adolf Hitler and Bartemius Crouch Sr. before. Well, it didn't matter. It was time to deal with the man and all his contributions to the sickness that infected the magical world, the sickness of apathy and corruption.

Sneaking up behind the four, The Phoenix threw a runestone that was designed to act as a 'flash-bang' through the space of Crouch's legs, which landed on the ground in front of the four. Focused as they were on the Death Eaters, they didn't take note of the small stone as it began to charge. The Phoenix shielded his eyes and cast a muffling charm on the cowl as the Rune-Bang detonated, causing those in front to cower in pain with their hands over their ears and the four who had caught the full blast to topple to the ground, eyes blinking rapidly and blood coming from their ears. The Phoenix cancelled his Muffling Charm and directed a Banishing Charm at the Muggles who had been being used as hostages by the Death Eaters even as they fell. They were banished onto the top of a magical tent, which being sturdier than most tents, created a relatively soft landing. The Phoenix was amused to note the peacocks outside of the tent in question. The Malfoys would probably burn it now since it had been touched by 'Muggle filth'.

The Phoenix grabbed Crouch Sr. even as Amelia Bones rose to a seated position. The Phoenix gave her a mocking wave before Disapparating, activating the fire illusion his gear was enchanted with as he did so.

**_*HPDC*_**

The office of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a large one, but it felt crowded for the first time in many years, as far as Amelia Bones was concerned. In addition to herself, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour, and Chief Hit-Wizard Albert Runcorn, the office was currently being occupied by Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, Albus Dumbledore in his role as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Algernon Croaker, the Head Unspeakable. The reason for the crowded office was plastered all across the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. From the hooligans dressed as Death Eaters to the appearance of the Dark Mark, there were a number of people who feared that it meant Voldemort had returned, and the discovery of the charred remains in the center of the camp grasping a vial with a memory contained inside had stirred even more panic, especially since it was well-known that Bartemius Crouch Sr., who had been known for his hardline policies during the War against You-Know-Who, had been taken by a mysterious figure that had made use of odd runestone that the Department of Mysteries was examining.

The Judiciary Pensieve on Amelia Bones' desk was specific to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. While people believed memories to be inadmissible, that was not actually true. The D.M.L.E. and Department of Mysteries were both proficient in telling real memories from false ones. The reason memories had never been used to convict the followers of Voldemort was because they _always_ wore masks with Modulating Charms on them. Even the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. had been wearing their masks when they were caught. Memories had been used to convict those charged with lesser, but still serious crimes (such as Muggle-baiting or thievery, like in the case of Mundungus Fletcher). It was not, however, standard procedure to ask for a memory of the event from either victims or the presumed perpetrators; instead, it was up to the individuals in question to offer the memory themselves. Seeing as certain individuals had a vested interest in such things not being common knowledge, it wasn't bandied about.

The Judiciary Pensieve's primary difference from a normal Pensieve was regarding its ability to project the memory against a flat surface, such as a screen or a wall, for the convenience of the Wizengamot when presenting memory evidence. In this case, however, that method would not be used. Instead, those gathered would enter the memory, each dreading what they would find. It was a near-certainty that the memory would contain the last moments of Barty Crouch Sr.'s life.

"Shall we begin?" Amelia asked. At the nods of assent (a reluctant one from the Minister, but he felt he should be here and seen 'doing something', which had been his refrain for a few years now), each of them placed a finger in the Pensieve and felt the falling sensation. Something most people weren't aware of was that the viewers did not physically enter the Pensieve but did so mentally. They looked as they did in the physical world due to mental images of themselves.

_Two figures were in a clearing, a clearing that had to be well away from the World Cup's location as there was no sounds of screams or even the lights that had been used for the pathways. Barty Sr. was bound and kneeling on the ground, his torso uncovered, and a large rune burned into his skin._

_The other wore a black-tinted dragon hide outfit topped off by a cowl and cape made of acromantula silk and bespelled with an Obscuring Charm. When he spoke, it was clear that a Modulating Charm had been added as well. "__**Bartemius Crouch, Sr.,**__" the man said, waving his right hand, which glowed as the bag over the victim's head was Vanished, revealing the bound man was, indeed, Barty Crouch Sr. "__**You have been judged and found wanting.**__"_

Amelia couldn't help her mouth forming into a thin line as she realized what might well have happened. During the War against Voldemort, when Barty had been the head of the D.M.L.E., the Aurors had been granted emergency powers and allowed the use of deadlier spells, including the Unforgivables. Sometimes, mistakes had been made and while compensation had been made in those cases, there was always an undercurrent of resentment among the populace, even if it appeared that most wanted Barty as Minister of Magic once Bagnold was retired. Barty's son being discovered to be a Death Eater had, in Amelia's mind, only hastened Barty being shunted off into a disgraced office. The lingering resentment was, in part, the reason behind the consistent budget cuts the D.M.L.E. had faced.

But more importantly, in Amelia's mind, the perpetrator possessed the means and the methods of affording a suitable combat armor. She would have to put her feelers out in Diagon Alley, though she suspected if this person was half as smart as she believed, they would've gone to someone outside of Britain or to Morrigan's Combat Customs in Knockturn Alley, where the Ministry had no say.

Cornelius Fudge was worried about how this would look. A senior Ministry official had apparently been captured during the World Cup, which had happened under his watch. That same official was among those responsible for bringing the Tri-Wizard Tournament back to Great Britain this year, and he knew they didn't have anyone in the Department of International Cooperation who could replace Barty themselves, which meant they would have to elevate someone like Dirk Cresswell to the position. His backers wouldn't be very happy, but what could he do to appease them? The fact this wizard who had taken and likely killed Barty was capable of at least some wandless magic seemed to be inconsequential in the mind of a politician.

Algernon Croaker and Albus Dumbledore were both piecing what they could together. The perpetrator had to be well off, due to his attire, and well-learned due to his efficient use of disguising charms like the Modulating and Obscuring Charms. His use of wandless magic was troubling, as it left them unable to track him. Wandless magic, like accidental magic, could not be tracked by the Ministry. It was why accidental magic discharges occurring after Hogwarts, rare though they might be, were not tracked. Croaker had also been informed by Dumbledore about the circumstances surrounding the Hovering Charm at Harry Potter's residence in the summer following his second year at Hogwarts, and the Department of Mysteries was now working on methods of separating magical signatures so such a thing couldn't happen again. So, what they had here was a powerful and well-off individual, one who had no qualms about abducting a senior Ministry official during the height of the most dangerous night seen in Wizarding Britain since the end of the War against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Dumbledore would almost consider the possibility of it being Sirius Black, but he knew Sirius' capabilities. Twelve years in Azkaban had utterly destroyed any Occlumency shields the man might have possessed from growing up as the Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and while Sirius was still capable of great feats of magic with a wand (and the Animagus transformation) he had never shown an inkling towards wandless magic. The only one out of those four who had done so was Remus Lupin, and his wandless capabilities were minor. Lily Potter, on the other hand, had possessed a considerable amount of skill thanks to her early childhood exposure to magic through Severus.

That actually helped Albus come to the realization that whoever this was, they had to be a half-blood or Muggle-born. In his lifetime, the ones he had found most capable of astonishing feats of magic had been Tom Riddle, Severus Snape, Lily Evans Potter, and Harry Potter, though he was hampered slightly by his upbringing, something Albus hoped to break him of. The boy was meant to replace him as a figurehead of the Light, and he needed to have the power and the confidence in that power to live up to it. Tom Riddle had survived the hardships of an orphanage. Surely Harry Potter could survive the few hardships he had living in the Muggle world and his occasional adventures at Hogwarts?

Amelia, being the owner of the Pensieve they were in, reactivated the memory.

"_In what court?" sneered Crouch. "And on what charges?"_

"_**As to the charges? Corruption, judicial misconduct, and false imprisonment,**__" the vigilante, for that was clearly what the man was, replied coolly. "__**Tell me, Crouch, how many did you sentence to Azkaban because they were 'obviously guilty' and a trial would be of little use? Keeping in mind that you afforded the most heinous criminals of the last war, the Lestranges and your own son, the courtesy of a trial despite them being caught red-handed. I know you sentenced Sirius Black to Azkaban without trial. How many others rot away in that prison, tortured into insanity by the dementors, because you felt it would be inconvenient to hold a trial, as was their right? Even the guilty have a right to a fair trial. Or have you forgotten that the Ministry of Magic is still bound to follow the decrees of the Crown in matters of law?**__"_

"_As you said, the Lestranges and my son were caught and publicly brought in," Crouch sneered. "The public was fomenting at the mouth; they wanted to_ see _these people taken down. If I had had my way, I would've just sent them to Azkaban without the trial. They were clearly guilty." Crouch's eyes widened at what he had said._

Crouch wasn't the only one. Amelia's monocle was threatening to fall out, Dumbledore's eyes had lost their twinkle (for more than one reason), and Fudge was doing an incredible impression of a fish trying to breathe on dry land. Croaker was the only one who seemed to keep his composure.

"_**And since most of the public was unaware of Sirius Black's role as Secret-Keeper to the Potters, shoving a man who you felt had revealed his true colors into Azkaban without trial was good enough,**__" The vigilante mused. "__**In case you're wondering, you've been dosed with a truth serum of my own design. Its slow acting, but once it takes hold… Now, I'll pose my question again: how many did you imprison in Azkaban without trial?**__"_

"_Ten," Crouch ground out._

"_**Names and crimes,**__" The vigilante replied coldly._

"_Sirius Black, mass murder and betrayal of the Potters," Crouch began. None of the names following were recognizable, but the crimes ranged from Muggle-baiting to murder, and in each case, Crouch had sentenced them to a set amount of time in Azkaban due to their history with the victim or because they challenged his authority._

After Crouch spoke the final name, Amelia paused. "Do we know who all these people were?" she asked.

Albus spoke. "Most of them were half-bloods or Muggleborns," he said. "I had heard of them being sentenced to Azkaban but the crimes they were presumed guilty of don't fit who they were. It appears Bartemius' zeal for justice may have serious repercussions." Amelia nodded shortly, already feeling the headache, while Fudge was debating how they would be able to spin this. It would be later that Amelia Bones, with the surprising backing of Dolores Umbridge (surprising seeing as the two loathed one another), would suggest they point out it was the previous administration who was at fault. That would not touch the Minister, Amelia, or Dumbledore, as the Minister at the time had been Millicent Bagnold and Crouch Sr. had been both the head of the D.M.L.E. and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot due to the Ministry being on a war-time footing.

"_May I at least know the name of my executioner?" Crouch spat._

"_**You can call me The Phoenix,**__" the vigilante said._

"_That's ironic," Crouch laughed. "A dark wizard using the name of a Light creature."_

"_**Ah, yes, that old misconception, one that Albus Dumbledore certainly is in favor of people believing,**__" The Phoenix replied._

Albus looked at the image of the vigilante sharply. What did the man mean? Phoenixes were creatures of the Light, always had been.

"_**There are organizations far older than your Ministry which know the truth of certain magical creatures,**__" The Phoenix told Crouch. "__**They still exist in certain areas of the world. I've been to one of those places. I learned a great deal, such as the fact that phoenixes are not creatures of Light, nor are they creatures of Darkness. They are creatures of Balance. They attach themselves to those they feel will help maintain the balance of the world, and more importantly, there are**_** two **_**types of Phoenix. There is the known kind, such as Fawkes, with the red and gold coloring. The other is a black and silver coloring. Together, they represent the balance of the world, the Light and the Darkness. They do NOT seek out companions who share their affinity. Take from that what you will.**__"_

"_Why should I?" Crouch said. "I'll be dead soon, anyways."_

"_**Indeed,**__" The Phoenix replied. "__**I'm actually talking to the people who are watching this memory.**__" The Phoenix turned in the direction the viewers were standing. "__**Know this: I am declaring my intention to fight against the apathy and corruption that chokes the magical world. I do not subscribe to such foolish notions as Light and Dark. Both can become corrupted. Those who further this corruption will not be allowed to continue. I do not believe in second chances.**__"_

_The Phoenix turned back to Crouch. __**"A little-known fact about the Killing Curse, Mr. Crouch, is that it does not simply kill. The wording of the spell means, quite simply, to destroy completely. Seeing as the bodies of its victims are left without a mark upon their body, what do you think it means?" **__At Crouch's furrowed brow, The Phoenix chuckled.____"__**There are two options, Crouch: either the curse severs one's connection to their magic, the shock of which causes them to die, or the curse destroys the very soul of the being it strikes. Seeing as the former would not affect Muggles in the least, that leaves only the destruction of the soul. Which makes sense; the only time the 'spirit' of an Avada Kedavra victim has appeared has been when brother wands lock up and one forces the other to relive their previous spells.**__"_

_There was a long, tense silence following the words of The Phoenix as Crouch came to understand just what he had authorized as the head of the D.M.L.E. so many years ago._

The same silence came from the viewers, who were horrorstruck at knowing what it truly meant for those innocents who had been caught by the Curse during a crossfire between Ministry forces and the Death Eaters during the war. Albus Dumbledore was white-faced at learning the reality of what the curse did, and Croaker had brought out a small black book and was writing furiously. Not many had looked into the origins of the Killing Curse, taking it at face value. But the plain statement of what it could do by The Phoenix was horrific to contemplate and meant that they needed to work harder to find a way to block it completely.

_The Phoenix flicked his wrist, and a very familiar wand appeared._

Albus's mouth dropped open in shock as he spotted the wand. It was the same as his! Impossible! Wait… there was a minor difference. A crack in the top of the wand, as though it had channeled a lot of power. Albus' wand didn't possess the crack. He pulled out his wand and handed it to Amelia before she could comment. She examined it carefully, as did Croaker, and they spotted the same differences between Albus' and the wand in the hands of The Phoenix. Albus, for his part, was beginning to think that he may not have been wielding the true Elder Wand all these years after all.

"_**I've known people taken by the Curse,**__" The Phoenix told Crouch. "__**I've experienced the devastation of knowing that those I care for will never see me in the great beyond. So, a part me would rather never use it, never give that fate to another.**__" Crouch, and the viewers, relaxed a bit at this. "__**However, there are certain people in the wizarding world guilty of truly heinous crimes, crimes they commit with impunity and are never charged for. You, Crouch, are one of the lucky ones. You didn't know how heinous a crime you were committing in authorizing the use of Unforgivables.**__" The Phoenix harnessed his wand again and drew a sword from his side. It seemed to charge with a magical energy. "__**Consider this a more merciful exit then you deserve, Crouch.**__" The Phoenix impaled Crouch on the blade, the energy transferring into him. As the Phoenix pulled the blade out and backed away, Crouch began to glow with magical energy. That glow became a fire, a fire that consumed Crouch from the inside out. The Phoenix watched, dispassionately, as the burned-out husk that had once been Barty Crouch fell to the ground._

_The Phoenix turned again to where the viewers stood. "Behold, the Cleansing Fire," The Phoenix said. "Light and Dark mean nothing to me. Only balance."_

The memory faded and the viewers were returned to Amelia's office. Amelia pulled open her desk drawer and removed a bottle of scotch. "I think we'll all need a drink," she said quietly, even as a house elf popped in with the glasses needed.

**_A/N: So, how does everyone like The Phoenix?_**

**_One aspect I am taking from the movies in this fic is the idea that Barty Sr. was unaware of his son's freedom. The way he reacted when he realized Moody was being impersonated by his son made it pretty clear, to me, that he didn't know Barty Jr. was free in any way, shape, or form._**

**_The bit about the Avada Kedavra is my own theory because the spell does mean 'to destroy' or 'let the thing be destroyed'. Since the bodies are left unmarked, and the loss of magic wouldn't affect Muggles or animals, that leaves the soul being the thing that is destroyed. And before anyone whines about 'Rowling says', I'll remind you that 'canon' is ever-changing in the mind of J.K. Rowling. So as far as I'm concerned, there is no real 'canon'. If you have a different take on the AK, that's fine. But this is my story and it will be MY viewpoint that is 'canon' for this story. There will be no discussion. _**


	4. Schism

Chapter 4:

Schism

The Ministry of Magic had done their best to contain the news, but despite those efforts, it was eventually revealed to the public through the _Daily Prophet_, which was not yet being leaned on by Cornelius Fudge and his advisors, that the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the War against You-Know-Who had been brutally murdered, in an article written by none other than Rita Skeeter. Harry had taken out a subscription to the _Prophet_ in order to keep an eye on how the wizarding world was reacting to the actions of The Phoenix, and had it delivered in the early-morning (a little known fact he had discovered was you could specify when you wanted the paper delivered). As a result, he had gotten his subscription hours before the Weasleys did and stuffed it away in his trunk to read on the train, since the article in question came out on September 1st. Harry was impressed; the Ministry had managed to keep the particulars of Crouch's death quiet for a whopping five days.

Speaking of the train and Hogwarts in general, he was finally going to get the chance to get rid of his two hangers-on, which was for the best because it was getting to the point that if he didn't break off from them soon, very soon, he was going to curse the both of them into oblivion. This line of thought had also made him realize that he would need to ask for a Re-Sorting, since otherwise he would still have to see them in Gryffindor Tower. It wasn't a common occurrence, but Harry had learned during his perusal of the Headmaster's personal library once he had taken control of Hogwarts that a student could request a Re-Sort, but only the once.

It was kept quiet, for the most part, even under Dumbledore's tenure because despite his belief that they sorted too early (something Harry had learned in Snape's memories) he strongly believed one should stick it out in their chosen house unless it became truly unviable to continue. Considering this was the man who hadn't bothered evacuating the school with a dangerous beast on the loose and kept as much of what happened during Harry's time at Hogwarts quiet as possible, Harry wondered exactly what would be considered 'unviable' to Albus Dumbledore. Still, the man was bound by his role as Headmaster to grant a request for Re-Sorting if it was made, no matter his personal views or desires.

**_*HP*_**

Finally, the moment had come. The train was underway, and Harry no longer needed to pretend for the sake of the Weasleys. "This is where we part ways," Harry said, turning to look at the other two.

"Harry, mate, what do you mean?" Ron asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I mean that my thought processes over the summer have led me to the conclusion that it is not in my best interests to remain friends with the both of you," Harry replied simply. Hermione's lips parted in shock while Ron's ears grew red. "I didn't say anything until now because I've only recently concluded this. I was hoping things would settle this summer, but what happened at the Cup…" Harry shook his head. "I need to focus on my studies, and I can't do that with the two of you constantly around me."

"But Harry, we could help you-" Hermione began.

Harry raised a hand. "No," he said. "You couldn't. You'd want to _direct_ my studies, decide where I was going to research. It wouldn't be _my studies_. It would be _Hermione Granger's_ studies." Harry turned to Ron. "Can you honestly say you'd want to study more than we have to for school?" Ron flushed at this. "If I was studying all the time, you'd try to pull me away from it to play Chess or Quidditch or something.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and he was surprised to find he was being honest. "I just can't hang out with the two of you like we have been. I need to focus on my studies because if there's anything the past three years have shown us, it's that Voldemort and his followers are still out there, still gunning for me, and I need to be ready. I need to know things I can't find with the two of you." Harry began walking away. "Goodbye, Ron, Hermione. Look out for one another, yeah?" The two didn't follow him, and Harry found himself in a compartment alone, at least for a time. Eventually, the door slid open and his solitude was disturbed. He looked up and found two girls in Slytherin robes, one older than the other, standing in the compartment door. He gave them a nod and turned back to look out the window.

'Come on," he heard one of the girls, who he suspected was the older one, say to the younger one. "We don't want to sit with Potter."

"Why not?" asked the younger girl. "And don't give me that 'Slytherins and Gryffindors don't mix' excuse. Professor Snape told me when I asked him about having friends in other Houses that it was possible and that he had even had a friend in Gryffindor when he was a student."

"When did Professor Snape tell you that?" the older one said in disbelief.

"My first-year interview," the younger girl said with a shrug.

"First-year interview?" Harry asked, turning to look at the two with interest. "I've never heard of that."

"It's a Slytherin thing, Potter," the older girl said with a shrug. She eyed him for a moment. "Are you going to give us trouble because we're Slytherins if we sit here?"

"I'm not Ron," Harry replied, waving to the seat across from him. "Besides, I've been doing a lot of thinking this summer and realized its stupid of me to be thinking all Slytherins are the same. If I hadn't met Malfoy and been told by _everyone else_ that I met that all Dark wizards come from Slytherin, I might've been one."

"What do you mean?" asked the younger girl inquisitively.

"Astoria!" the older girl gasped. "Decorum!"

"I'll worry about that when I have to," Astoria said, giving her a sister a silly grin. "Besides, with everyone thinking I'm so open and transparent, they won't know what hit them when I go all lady-like on them."

"Lady-like? You?" the older girl said.

Harry coughed. "Perhaps I could at least get your names before I answer, what was it, Astoria's question?"

The older girl grimaced. "My apologies, Potter. I am Daphne Greengrass, and this is my younger sister, Astoria."

"Right," Harry nodded. "Greengrass. Sorry, I didn't place you before. I guess that's a good thing, since the only Slytherins I do know by name are… problematic." Harry turned his attention to Astoria, who was looking amused at her sister's cough that was apparently meant to hide her own amusement at Harry's comment. "You asked what I meant about possibly being a Slytherin?" Astoria nodded. "It's simple. The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. But by that time, I'd heard from both Hagrid and Ron Weasley that Dark Wizards came out of Slytherin, then met Malfoy."

"Hard to imagine you being a Slytherin, Potter," Daphne said.

"You need cunning to survive my relatives, Miss Greengrass," Harry said, looking out the window again, "and ambition to take the initiative when the so-called responsible adults have decided to stick their collective heads in the sand, like with the Chamber of Secrets."

"So, you _did_ find the Chamber?" asked Daphne, leaning forward a bit.

"Complete with a 1,000-year-old basilisk," Harry nodded. "I didn't take a long look around, since I was trying to save someone who'd been taken by the Heir. I've thought about going back… but I've had either Ron or Hermione with me."

"Yes, where are your shadows?" Daphne asked.

"We've parted ways," Harry replied coolly. "I have a new path I'm taking, and they can't follow me on it. They would try, I'm sure, but they'd fail. Especially since part of it involves correcting the mistake I mentioned earlier."

"Mistake?" Daphne asked.

"My Sorting," Harry replied. He allowed a small smirk to creep up his face. "A little-known fact is that one can ask for a Re-Sort, but only once. Dumbledore can't refuse, though I suspect he'll wish he could. I think he prefers me in Gryffindor."

"Even if you succeed, I hope you don't expect a warm welcome," Daphne said.

"Oh, I don't," Harry said. "I've spent three years being on the opposite side of Slytherin House. But I suspect there is one truth that even they recognize, even if they won't openly admit it."

"What's that?" Astoria asked.

Harry smiled. "As a _man_, and believe me I use that term loosely, I spoke to once said, there is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it. I have power, more than I am willing to show to the world as a Gryffindor. But as a Slytherin, I can become someone else, something else, and I suspect that that is someone the Slytherins _will_ respect. The intelligent amongst them, anyways, and those who are not will follow those who are." The allusion to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle was clear.

The rest of the journey to Hogwarts was filled with a companionable atmosphere. The Greengrass sisters proved to be rather sharp and knew that Harry was not saying everything, something Daphne told him would serve him well if he truly found his place in the Serpent's Nest.

Later that evening, after the last first year had been Sorted, Harry stood from his place at the Gryffindor Table, surprising the majority of the Hall. "Headmaster Dumbledore," he said smoothly, catching the old man's attention. "I request a Re-Sorting under Hogwarts By-Law 45-1605." The Gryffindors were doing a remarkable impression of fish on dry land as they gaped at Harry.

"May I ask your reasoning, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry was glad at least in this case he maintained a professional air.

"Your well-aware I don't need to share my reasoning, Headmaster," Harry replied coolly. "Suffice to say, I no longer feel that being a member of Gryffindor House will aid in my development as a wizard and as a member of the magical community." Harry purposely looked in his eyes and allowed him to see the way Gryffindor turned on him during his first three years due to foolish things, like when he had helped Hagrid and lost a whole lot of points or when he had discovered that he could speak to snakes.

After a moment, Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, Mr. Potter," he said. "This is a monumental occasion, students of Hogwarts. It is very rare that a Re-Sorting takes place, as most feel comfortable within the Houses chosen in their first year. On rare occasion, they choose to be Re-Sorted. Sometimes they are returned to their original House, but most times they are given a new House. The Re-Sorting can only occur once, and the decision is final, regardless of the personal views of the student. Step forward, Mr. Potter, and let us see where the Sorting Hat sends you for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts."

Harry walked up on the dais, meeting McGonagall's gaze. She was looking at him with a conflicted gaze, but as he sat on the stool, her arm was steady as she placed the Hat on his head.

_Well, well,_ the Hat mused. _Not often I get to visit a mind for a second time. And what a mind it is, Mr. Potter. Or is it Mr. al Ghul?_

_Ra's al Ghul is a title one must earn, and there can be only one Ra's at a time,_ Harry replied. _I am not the Ra's of this time._

_No, no you're not, but your plan is as cunning as the one which led to your ascension as Ra's,_ the Sorting Hat replied. _It is sad that you felt the need to destroy the British wizarding world in your original timeline, Mr. Potter, but your plan to use the Slytherins as a way of gaining information on those you must take down could work. But a word of advice from an old hat?_

_Okay,_ Harry replied slowly.

_Take a look at the wizarding world, Mr. Potter, and ask yourself what kind of wizard ensures changes are made when he wants them to. Until then, do Hogwarts a favor and show the world what it truly means to be a SLYTHERIN!_

Harry couldn't help the smirk that came to his face as he felt the Hat pulled from his head, and he looked down to see the insignia on his robes change from the Gryffindor lion to the Slytherin serpent, the stripes on his tie from red and gold to emerald and silver. He gave a nod to Professor McGonagall, a bow with one fist over his chest to the Staff Table and the stunned looking Headmaster and headed for the Slytherin table amidst whispers. He noted a place had been opened up for him beside Daphne Greengrass, in between her and another girl he didn't recognize. Harry took the spot, nodding in thanks to Daphne, who nodded back. "So," Harry said amusedly, looking over at the girl in question, "who wants to bet that by morning Ernie MacMillan will be claiming he always knew I was rotten, the Ravenclaws will be trying to figure out if they're in the right House, and Ron Weasley will have brought up my parents in an attempt to shame me for becoming a Slytherin?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "I am a Slytherin, Potter. No Slytherin with a brain would take such a sucker's bet."

Harry looked pointedly across the table at where Draco Malfoy was rummaging in his coin purse, the boy in question flushing when his mind caught up to what was said.

"I was actually going to add that you'd get a Howler from Weasley's mother," Draco defended himself.

"No, I expect that to happen day after tomorrow," Harry replied. "So, I'll take that bet, Malfoy. Ten galleons?"

"Agreed," Draco nodded. He eyed Harry curiously. "You're not the same person you were the past few years, are you?"

"No," Harry said. "As I said to Daphne on the train, I can't be who I really am in Gryffindor. But now I can become someone else, something else." Harry tilted his head. "Besides, I'm beginning to suspect that you've been hiding your true self as well. I'd wager only those in Slytherin House know the real Draco Malfoy."

Draco smirked and said, "You'll just have to prove you're a Slytherin to find out, Potter."

Daphne looked between the two of them. "I'm not sure whether to be pleased the two of you might get along or scared at the idea," she said.

Harry chuckled. "Be afraid, Miss Greengrass. Be very afraid. Without us putting as much energy into our little rivalry, we'll have an excess of mental energy to put towards other things."

Inwardly, Harry grimaced. He really hated it when he had to take a page out of Oliver Queen's book. But he couldn't let people see him as being remotely connected to The Phoenix. Which meant he had to become the direct opposite of The Phoenix, who used a mixture of magical and muggle weapons but very few spells. He had never really focused his energies on his magical education once he became Al Anqua, the closest being his study of Runes and how he could use them as weapons if needed. While he was still advanced for what he appeared to be (a fourth-year student) he was nowhere near as well-educated as some of his foes (Dumbledore, Voldemort, Scrimgeour, etc.) and that was a gap he needed to fill as Harry Potter, not as The Phoenix.

**_A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. _**

**_Was Harry's separation from Ron and Hermione abrupt? Yes, yes, it was. But from Harry's perspective, he's had to keep quiet and smile through his teeth at two teenagers who will grow into people he despises, and he knows where he'll end up once he gets a Re-Sort. In his mind, it's a matter of why prolong the inevitable one more day now that he's away from The Burrow? _**


	5. Tradition

Chapter 5:

Tradition

Harry felt the curse coming at his back as he was halfway across the Slytherin Common Room, heading for the Greengrass sisters. He whirled around, wand dropping into his hand as he summoned a table into the way of the curse, which promptly shattered. "Bone breaker?" Harry asked curiously of the trollish-looking seventh year Slytherin standing across the way from him. The boy nodded shortly. "Not a bad opener," he said, then flicked his wand towards the other boy, adding a little twist to the end of the spell. Harry's spell was one he had picked up during his travels hunting Dolohov, a variation of the Cutting Curse that would leave a permanent reminder: Lacero Cicatri. The spell was blocked by a silver shield, which Harry's opponent then fired through, surprising Harry.

Harry was hit with the curse and gritted his teeth as he felt the Blood Boiling Hex. It was an easily treatable hex since it had safeguards put in place to keep it from being fatal, but it still hurt something awful unless you had a high tolerance for pain. Luckily, even as a fourteen-year-old, he had had such a tolerance. He sent out a Cheering Charm, overpowering it slightly. This surprised the Slytherin who had cursed him long enough for Harry to dispel the Blood Boiling Hex. First a bone-breaker, than the Blood Boiling Hex. Harry had been holding back since he didn't want to do _too_ much damage. But if Voldemort was any indication, the Slytherins respected _power_ and feared those who wielded it without mercy. Well, Harry had once been Ra's al Ghul.

The Piercing Hex that shot from his wand shot across the room and punched through the other boy's lower right leg. The boy topped to the ground, and Harry followed this up with a bone-breaker to the boy's wand arm. Finally, Harry muttered, "_Suffoco_." The Suffocation Curse pressed down on the windpipe of the boy opposite him. The young Slytherin gasped for air as he looked up at Harry, who was looking down at him with his head tilted curiously to the side, as though merely intrigued by the curse's affect.

It was into this scenario that the Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape, entered. His cool black eyes took in the situation and a moment later his wand had slashed towards Harry, who was blasted back and into a table. That allowed the Slytherin to breathe. Snape gestured to two seventh years, who understood the meaning behind it. They took their Housemate up to their dorm, where they would heal him. Disagreements within the Serpent's Nest were kept within it so as to show a united front to the rest of the school.

Snape turned back to Potter as he stood up. "I find it interesting that I come to give my usual welcome speech to our new students only to find one of them in the midst of a duel with an older student," Snape said silkily. "Explanations from someone _other_ than Potter."

Daphne Greengrass stood, and Snape nodded to her. "Bole attempted a bone-breaker to Potter's back to test his magical reflexes, just like the older students do every year to each other," Daphne answered. "Potter deflected it, but rather than let things rest fired a Cutting Curse, though it had a slightly different coloring, at Bole, who blocked it. Bole fired a Blood Boiling Hex through his shield to keep Potter from attacking further. Potter seems to have a high tolerance for pain as he fought past it, delivered a cheering charm thanks to Bole dropping his shield in his belief the fight was over, and then dispelled the Hex. He proceeded to use a Piercing Hex on Bole's right leg, a bone-breaker on his right arm, and then used the Suffocation Curse. That's when you came in, Professor."

"Thank you, Miss Greengrass, for that excellent report," Snape said coolly. "Potter, with me. Prefects, please give our first-year students an introduction into the ways of Slytherin House. For those of you who shielded the younger years from this ill-conceived duel, 5 points apiece." Snape turned and departed the common room, Harry following after him and trying to figure out what had happened. They entered Snape's office a few minutes later. "Sit," Snape said, and Harry did as he was ordered, deciding not to rock the boat with Snape just yet.

Snape eyed him for a moment. "As much as I would love to blame all of this on you, Potter, there is as much blame for me to take," he said simply. "You should have been warned about the methods of Slytherin before experiencing them. However, that does not excuse what happened there. Bole was down and unarmed and you continued to press the attack with the Suffocation Curse. Why?"

"Slytherins seem to only respect power or fear those who wield it," Harry said. "I didn't want to deal with constantly having to prove myself so I did what I thought they would respect."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "That is _not_ the Slytherin Way, regardless of what you might think thanks to your encounters with the Dark Lord and his servants, Potter," he said. "Gaining the respect of the House through fear is not respect at all, but tyranny and subjugation, the same tools the Dark Lord utilized in the war. The _Slytherin Way_ is very different." Snape leaned back in his chair, eyeing Harry to make sure he was paying attention, which he was. "Slytherin House is run very differently than the other three, Potter. Let us first go over the rules by which we govern ourselves:

"First, we accept that not all who enter Slytherin will share our core ideals. They have been sorted not because of bloodlines or because of expectations, but because the Sorting Hat sees within them that Slytherin will help push them to embrace their greatest potential where in the other houses, even if they have the traits for them, their talents would be squandered, perhaps even pushed aside to seem more acceptable. Can you think of any situation during the past three years where this would have been useful for you?"

"Second year," Harry whispered.

"Correct," Snape said softly. "The second rule by which we govern ourselves: disagreements within the House stay within the House, no matter if we have friends or allies in other Houses. We present a united front even if we despise others. That is something that is very difficult for most of the other Houses to understand." Snape's expression grew haunted for a brief moment before he returned his gaze to Harry's. "This means that even if you decide that you still despise Draco Malfoy, outside of Slytherin House you will _not_ be adversarial. Malfoy will likewise be required to do so. Again, can you think of anytime in the past three years where the unity of the House in public would have helped you?"

"All of them," Harry said flatly. "First year with the whole debacle when Hermione, Neville, Malfoy and I were caught out of bed after curfew; second year with the Heir business; and last year might have meant someone with a bit more pull being present when we were confronted by Sirius." Here, Harry looked up at the man. "For the record sir, I don't know what it is between you, my Dad, and Sirius Black, and I frankly don't care. But Peter Pettigrew was in the Shack that night, and he _confessed_ to turning my parents over to _Him_. Your rage at Black and Lupin let the real person who betrayed my parents get away, and I won't be forgetting that. Just a courtesy warning."

"Message received," Snape said shortly. He would think on what Potter said later. For now… "Those are the rules of Slytherin House. Next is traditions.

"First, for our returning students, the first two weeks of each year are comprised of testing one another's reflexes. We do not play around and never utilize silly little charms like the Cheering Charm," here, Harry flushed, "because they do not leave a lasting impression to encourage study and honing one's skills.

"Second, we have an internal dueling competition. Those who wish to enter it must make this known to me by Halloween, so that I can draw up an appropriate schedule giving everyone a fair shot. The winner of the dueling competition in the fourth year is often the top pick for Prefect.

"Third, we teach _everyone_ basic healing charms, and there is an advanced study group for those who desire to attend. This allows us to handle any injuries, like Mr. Bole's, internally and not have to bring in Madam Pomfrey. Doing otherwise could lead to… complications for all involved. Seeing many of Slytherin House come from influential families, I'm sure you can imagine if someone who did not broke, say, Draco Malfoy's legs and it was reported?"

Harry's mouth twisted into a grimace. "Lucius Malfoy would bribe and threaten anyone who didn't push for harsh punishments," Harry said.

"Correct, as he would need to act the part of the concerned parent," Snape nodded. "Finally, we act as counselors to one another. Many of those Sorted into Slytherin come from troubled homes, even if it is not obvious to the public eye." Snape eyed Harry. "I knew your mother and aunt growing up," he said suddenly, shocking Harry that the man would admit to this. "Unless Petunia has changed drastically from our teenage years, I doubt your childhood was very pleasant. Which begs the question: did the Hat offer Slytherin to you once before?"

Harry looked up at the man, allowing the images of his cupboard and Uncle Vernon's various punishments to float to the surface along with the discussion he had had with the Hat in his first year. "Yes," he said simply.

"Then welcome home, Potter," Snape said. "Remember the rules and traditions of Slytherin House, and you will find its members willing to forgive your blunder with Bole… but only if you show improvement. Your continuing of the fight after Bole was down, however, has earned you a detention with me this Saturday. He was out of the fight, Potter. What you did was unnecessary and cruel, so unless your plan was to emulate the Dark Lord…"

Harry hung his head, knowing it's what fourteen-year-old him would have done at this point in time. "Dismissed, Potter," Snape said, and Harry departed the office.


	6. Introspection & Intrusion

**_A/N: There had been some confusion as to what's going on with Harry during the first time that I was posting this. There's going to be some introspection in this chapter to explain a few things. _**

Chapter 6:

Introspection & Intrusion

It was early morning when the newly minted Slytherin, Harry Potter, rose and prepared for the day ahead before retreating to the common room. This would be one of the few times he would be allowed some privacy to collate his thoughts. Taking a meditative position by the fire, Harry listened to the crackling of the fire and allowed it to soothe him, to wash over his mind as he began organizing his most recent memories, examining them thoroughly before filing them away.

First up was the way he had been so 'open' with Daphne Greengrass and her little sister. Some would call it foolish and not very Slytherin, and they would be _right_ to do so. Harry was no fool who thought a complete personality change on his part would be completely disregarded by the likes of Dumbledore. It was one thing to be re-Sorted, as it would seem to Dumbledore, who knew of Harry's initial Sorting, that Harry was simply correcting the mistake he had made, especially after three years of being the school's pariah for stupid things. To a man as old and world-wise as Dumbledore, it would probably seem that Harry was simply tired of being one thing or another and was finally ready to embrace being a pariah in order to be his true self. Dumbledore was not likely to see Harry as ultimately evil simply because he needed to believe Harry was on his side, and seeing as he had Snape on his side, the man was probably seeing Harry's presence in the House of Slytherin as some sort of advantage.

As a result of knowing that a complete personality change would raise suspicions from Dumbledore (and even Snape), Harry had carefully considered his strategy for his entry into Slytherin House. His openness about the Dursleys with the Greengrass sisters had been opportunistic since it would further strengthen the idea that he was not yet fully a Slytherin, which was what the duel last night had been about. Yes, Harry had known about the tradition; he had learned about it once the younger generation who chose to had joined the League in that final battle at Hogwarts. He had also known that it would raise suspicions for the person who had been Slytherin's number one enemy to simply dodge and do nothing else. So, he had allowed his mindset to slip back into the fourteen-year-old ideals he had had for that, and the conversation that came after, even though he despised it.

If there was one thing he had learned as Al Anqua as he plotted his ascension to Ra's so he could wipe out this society in the last timeline, it was the lesson of patience. That sometimes meant allowing yourself to appear foolish in the eyes of those you were infiltrating and that was precisely what Harry was doing, infiltrating Slytherin House. 14-year-old Harry would have seen Slytherin exactly as he had described to Snape the previous night, and so he had let that part of him out to play, no matter how much it might have shamed him. Sacrifices had to be made in order to achieve the goals Harry had set for himself this time around.

He knew all those on the Light Side who had been an influence after the War, and who inspired them. He knew their routines, their habits, where they took holidays. But he didn't know that for those on the Dark Side who had been an influence after the War, and only knew the bare minimum about those who inspired them. If he was going to deal with those who had concocted that horrific law, he needed to know both sides intimately and that meant descending into the muck that was Slytherin House. That had been his mindset in being sent to Slytherin.

But what Harry hadn't expected was to _respect_ what Snape had referred to as the Slytherin Way and the rules and traditions of Slytherin House. Having spent two years as Ra's al Ghul, and nearly two decades in service to the League as Al Anqua, Harry had a great deal of respect for traditions that honed the skills of those involved in them. The Slytherins, for all their support of the likes of Voldemort, had had these traditions for years. Experiencing them first-hand had given Harry the personal respect he now had for them as opposed to the distant respect he had had for the (at the time) extinct House of Slytherin once he had decimated the wizarding world as Ra's al Ghul.

As Harry's mind drifted to the conversation he had had with Snape, his mouth thinned. The man was a Slytherin, and had lectured him on the Slytherin Way, and yet had not realized the subtle threat Harry had delivered. Or perhaps he simply doubted Harry would ever be able to go through with any threat to him due to his protector, Albus Dumbledore. Harry could not, and would never, forgive Snape for being a part of the reason Sirius had remained on the run until he died. Snape's thirst for blood when it came to his childhood grudges had cost Sirius the chance at freedom and allowed the man who truly betrayed James and Lily Potter (the latter of whom Snape claimed to _love_) to their deaths. Harry had mentioned Pettigrew's role last night to gauge Snape's attitude, and it summed up what he thought: the man likely saw Lily's being with James as a betrayal of his fantasy.

Snape was another 'personal target' of Harry's, like Crouch Sr., but it would have to wait (as much as Harry would prefer otherwise). As a result, Harry had had to act like the person Snape believed him to be, up to and including acting like his father while also sending a message to Slytherin House in the same fashion his original 14-year-old self would have. It had taken all of Harry's considerable self-control to not simply curse Snape into a sobbing mess, Obliviate him, and give him a memory of a satisfying lecture to the 'uppity Gryffindor turned Slytherin'.

Harry finished sorting his memories and rose to his feet as he heard the first rumblings of his new Housemates getting up and about for the day. Today would be interesting, seeing as it was a Friday and if he recalled correctly, fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors had Double Potions in the afternoon.

**_*HPDC*_**

Harry was halfway across the entrance hall when he had the expected confrontation with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He noted that Draco Malfoy and his two bodyguards were nearby, watching the confrontation silently. "Ron, Hermione," he said neutrally.

"This is what you meant on the train yesterday, isn't it?" Hermione asked, her voice low and a bit tremulous. If Harry could look at her and see the person who had been his friend instead of the person that he had seen support a monstrous bill, he might have felt a bit sorry for her since she was just a 14-year-old girl who was losing one of her best friends. But he couldn't separate the two, not knowing what Hermione had become in the future. "When you said you were going down a path that we wouldn't follow you down. You _knew_ you'd go to Slytherin. How?"

"Because it was where the Hat wanted me in the first place," Harry said. "No, I won't tell you why."

"So, you'll just go and join the Dark wizards in the snake pit, then?" Ron spat, apparently losing whatever cool he had been holding onto. Harry wasn't surprised at that. He was surprised Hermione had managed to be the first one to speak. "Last year you were going to kill Black because you found out he betrayed your parents." This was a well-known but only whispered fact that had made its way through the school the previous year, so there were no raised eyebrows at Ron's declaration from others in the entrance hall who were watching the discussion as their morning entertainment. "Isn't that what you're doing? Your parents wouldn't want you in Slytherin."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'd like to think they would care about me and want me to succeed regardless," Harry said. "Now I could ask you how you would know what they'd want, but it doesn't matter. Do you know why, Ron?" Harry had decided he wouldn't condescend to use his former friends' surnames like the rest of the Slytherins. Any barbs he delivered would be far more personal if he used their first names. "It's _because_ they're dead. The dead don't _want_ anything. It's one of the perks of _being_ dead." With that, Harry brushed past the two gobsmacked Gryffindors and headed into the Great Hall. As he did so, he heard Malfoy call out to the two and hid the smile on his face. Knowing Ron, that wouldn't take long to escalate… and knowing Malfoy, Snape was waiting nearby for the perfect moment to strike. It didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, but it amused Harry that for all her intelligence, Hermione had yet to figure out the pattern and simply avoided being around Ron when he and Malfoy went at it since Snape always deducted points from _all_ Gryffindors involved.

Taking a seat at the table, Harry was surprised when Derrick Bole dropped into the seat opposite him. Gulping down the pumpkin juice he had just taken a sip of, Harry said, "Bole, about last night-"

"Don't apologize, Potter," Bole said. "This isn't Gryffindor. Sit back, observe, then when it benefits you, act." Bole turned his direction to breakfast, leaving a thoughtful Harry.

The day passed rather quickly. The Slytherins had Charms and History of Magic in the morning, but Harry spent all of History making plans (in his head, of course) for the rest of the year, under the guise of taking a nap like everyone else. It was somewhat comforting to know that even the Slytherins didn't pay much attention to Binns. He wondered if the same was true of Ravenclaw; if so, that would mean Hermione was the only person who actually paid attention in that class.

Potions was… interesting. Snape could no longer focus on Harry since he was in Slytherin, so his focus shifted to Hermione, who he no doubt saw as being a threat to Lily's legacy as one of the most gifted Muggleborns. Harry, for his part, observed the way the man acted his role and wondered where the act ended, and the real feelings began. Snape, for all his faults, _was_ a brilliant Potions Master and Harry could only assume he loathed having to teach the art to those who weren't inclined. It only made Dumbledore's positioning him as the Potions Master of Hogwarts all the more damning. Dumbledore _knew_ the man couldn't teach; he _knew_ that Voldemort was alive; and he _knew_ that a high score in the Potions NEWT was required for two critical war-time roles: Auror and Healer. Yet his entire plan was based on Harry 'sacrificing himself' to do for the entirety of wizarding Britain what his mother had done for him. Well, it was just too bad that wouldn't the case this time. All that was required was that _Voldemort_ be the one to cast the Killing Curse on Harry to get rid of the Horcrux. That was the one detractor from this trip to the past; he had to deal with that thing again.

After dinner, Harry had a few hours before curfew and decided to get some training in at the Room of Requirement. He would also need to write a letter to Sirius, informing him of the change in House so the man wouldn't be shocked. Harry had to admit, he was a bit concerned with how Sirius would take his Re-Sorting. Even though he had lived well into his thirties, mentally speaking, a small part of him still longed for the connection to his family Sirius Black represented. Some would be shocked that Ra's al Ghul could have any level of compassion, but there was a difference between Harry and others who had held the title of Ra's: He had never once used the Lazarus Pit. He had seen what it did to the minds of those who frequented it, and as a result, he had destroyed the Pit after killing Nyssa al Ghul.

Harry's intentions for the rest of the evening before curfew were sidelined, however, when he stumbled across a scene that made his blood boil. Luna Lovegood was wandering the halls with a dreamy expression, humming as she looked for her belongings, her bare feet padding along softly on the ground. Luna had become one of his few confidants in the wizarding world and was the reason for the escalation of his hatred for the British wizarding society. She had been set to marry Rolf Scamander when she had been killed by "unknown assailants". Harry had investigated and found the magical signatures of those who had bullied Luna in school. It appeared that her being set to marry a high-profile wizard was too much for that lot.

"Hello, Ra's," Luna said dreamily as she met Harry's gaze, shocking him. "I must say, you're looking better."

Harry shook off his surprise and let out a low chuckle. "I guess I should not be surprised, Luna," Harry said. "You always did see more than others did, even though they scorned you. I assume the Nargles have been at it again?"

"No, silly, the Wrackspurts," Luna chided. "They get into peoples' heads and make it all fuzzy so they can't think straight."

"Yes," Harry said. "Why do you let them do this, Luna? Why not report them?"

"Would that make any difference?" Luna asked, appearing to have a brief moment of 'normalcy' as she looked at Harry with her wide blue eyes. After a moment, Harry sighed and shook his head. "Do not worry, Ra's. They will stop soon."

"I'm not Ra's anymore, Luna," Harry said.

"Then why do you wear his ring?" she asked innocently, before walking off humming as Harry's eyes shot down to his hand, where the Ring of the Demon was clearly visible. "What on Earth?" he murmured as he began heading to the Room again. He studied the Ring. It was almost exactly the same, but with a minor difference: the talon it formed into looked remarkably like a dragon's claw.

A shift in the air was all the warning Harry needed before he ducked and then leaped, turning in mid-air to deliver a kick to the wand hand of the person following him, disillusioned. A clatter was heard as the interloper's wand was flung out of reach. Harry followed up with a sharp thrust to the solar plexus and then a crushing knife-hand blow to the throat. The interloper gasped for air as Harry's wand snapped down into his hand and he cast a quick trio of spells: _Silencio, Petrificus Totalus, Levicorpus._ He snatched up the wand that had fallen and pocketed it before guiding the interloper along.

Arriving at the Room of Requirement, Harry thought hard on a place for study and interrogation and after the door appeared, entered. Finally, he cast the spell to cancel the disillusionment charm the interloper had cast upon themselves.

A slow, sadistic smile spread across Harry's face as he took in the frozen features of his captive. "Well," he practically purred. "I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It's too bad Hogwarts is not as sentient as people believe and Dumbledore has lowered so many wards in his tenure that were key to maintain the safety of the inhabitants." Harry directed the man onto a table which lashed him down and cancelled the petrification spell. "I have some research to do, but once that's done, we will have much to talk about. . . _Severus_."

**_*HPDC*_**

Ra's al Ghul watched as his daughter, Nyssa, sparred with another of her instructors. She was skilled and growing more skilled by the day. However, he would not show his approval, or his care, for her. He had made that mistake with Talia, allowed her to believe that caring could be a strength. He would not make the same mistake with Nyssa. Talia would be hunted down, soon enough, as like Damien, she had stolen waters from the Lazarus Pit and Ra's refused to allow yet another offshoot of the League be created, especially by his own child.

Ra's was interrupted by Al Sa-Her, his current Horseman. The man known to the world as Malcolm Merlyn had proven to have a vicious edge buried deep within him. His desire to bring justice to those like the man who had murdered his wife had turned him from a billionaire with only a basic knowledge of fighting to a lethal weapon who showed no mercy to those he was directed to deal with. "Master," Al Sa-Her said quietly. "We appear to have an intruder. The Dragon's Claw is missing."

"Lock down the compound and search everyone," Ra's ordered. The Dragon's Claw, like his own Ring, was one of the few enchanted pieces of work in the League of Assassins. They rarely interacted with the wizarding world, and when they had it was usually to end threats before they began. Their primary focus was on the mundane world, however. It was said that one day the Dragon's Claw would claim its owner, and that would lead to the creation of a secondary League of Assassins, one that would police the magical world. Ra's knew that the Dragon's Claw was something that Damien coveted as it would legitimize his H.I.V.E. as an equal to the League of Assassins.

_**A/N: So, hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and that some of the inconsistencies with Harry in this fic where he doesn't seem to act like you would expect are cleared up.**_


	7. A Question of Identity

_**A/N: A gentle reminder to my readers that I don't write with pairings in mind. Likewise, a gentle reminder that this story is complete, and if there were any pairings of note it would have been labeled accordingly. **_

Chapter 7:

A Question of Identity

Harry sighed as he found nothing in yet another book, despite having asked the Room of Requirement for a book about the League of Assassins and the Ring that was currently on his finger. There were plenty of books that _mentioned_ the League of Assassins as well as the fact that there were certain items that had been enchanted for them during the time they had been more involved with the magical world, but there was no mention of _what_ those items were, much less what significance the ring on Harry's finger held. Harry's focus when he had ascended to Ra's in the previous timeline had been on coming back to the summer before his fourth year, since that was when he could make the most of what he knew and give him enough time to gather intelligence on his adversaries. He knew that there were items in the vaults of Nanda Parbat that had magical significance but due to his self-imposed exile from the magical world, he hadn't even bothered to look at them. It was, as he was now realizing, a serious oversight on his part.

A muffled grumbling came from where he had left Snape. Harry looked up, a bit of mock-surprise crossing his features before he smiled. "Oh, Severus, I am so sorry, I forgot you were there," Harry said coolly, standing from where he had been reading the texts the Room of Requirement provided on the League. "I guess you can be allowed to speak now, but I would suggest you be civil." Harry's wand snapped into his hand and he waved it in Snape's direction.

"Potter, what is this?" Snape growled out. "Your arrogance has finally crossed the line! I will see you expelled for this!"

"No, I don't think so," Harry said, stepping up beside Snape. A quick wave of his hand conjured a silver-colored dagger. "You overheard a conversation you shouldn't have, Severus, and thanks to your superior Occlumency skills, I can't simply Obliviate you or Confund you so you don't recall it, since you would eventually find the meddling in your mind. No, I'm afraid that this is it for you, Severus. A pity, because I think you could have been useful moving forward."

"What the hell are you talking about, Potter?" snarled Snape. "The Headmaster holds the wards, and you will _not_ get away with this even with his favoritism!"

"Yes, Dumbledore holds the wards," Harry said. "But in order to perform all those pesky tests of his during the past few years, he had to lower the wards that warned of intent and action to harm. Otherwise the troll, the traps in the third-floor corridor, Voldemort possessing Quirrell, and the Diary along with the Basilisk would have triggered the wards, causing an immediate lockdown which would trigger the involvement of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which was precisely the opposite of what Dumbledore wanted. Those same wards gave the paintings special gifts so as to report better to Dumbledore, but now they're restricted to what they actually see rather than what those gifts allowed them to see. I took you down in a hallway without portraits, and I've become quite skilled at hiding my wand while walking along."

Snape's pallor had gone a sour, milky white as Harry laid out the reality of his situation. He hadn't known about Dumbledore lowering the wards for those tests on Potter. _The old fool!_ The Potions Master raged in his head. _His desire to test his little weapon backfired!_ Snape turned to look at Potter. "What are you going to do, Potter?" Snape asked. "Kill me? You don't have the stomach. You proved that last year with Black."

Harry chuckled. "Here I thought you might know what it meant when Luna called me Ra's, Severus," he said. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Sev. You don't mind if I call you my mother's pet name for you, do you?" Harry asked, and, ignoring the glare Snape aimed at him despite his shock at Harry's words, the 'boy' continued, "Anyways, have you ever heard of the Ritual of Temporal Return? It requires a massive amount of energy to accomplish, but if you can manage to harness that energy, you can send your consciousness back to anywhere along your timeline."

Snape was eyeing Harry with interest now. "Ah, I see you understand the implications of such a tool," Harry said. "For twenty years, I planned my return, Severus. Do you know why?" At Snape's confused look, Harry chuckled. "Of course, you don't, my mistake. While our side might have won the war against Voldemort, we lost the war for the soul of Wizarding Britain. So, I left Britain to hunt down the remaining Death Eaters, particularly Antonin Dolohov. I found him in Nanda Parbat."

"The League of Assassins," Snape whispered with a sort of reverence that Harry was shocked by. Snape snorted at seeing his expression. "I considered joining them after that Halloween, Potter, but I was bound by the oath I made in honor of your mother." Snape wasn't a fool; he could tell where this was going. Potter had come back from a future in which he had not only been a part of the League of Assassins, but also its leader. Snape remembered what the Lovegood girl had called him in the hallway: _Ra's_. Snape would do what he could to stave off death, and perhaps he could find common ground with Potter.

"I see," Harry replied. "Then you can guess the rest of the story. I found the Ritual in the League's libraries during my studies with the League, but it would require an army to ensure I wasn't interrupted, an army like the League of Assassins. Once I ascended to become Ra's, well, I'm sure you can guess. Which leads us back to your statement. The reality is I _can_ kill you without a thought, Snape. Not just for allowing your petty schoolboy grudge to allow the real traitor to go free last year, but because it was _you_ who set Voldemort after my parents in the first place."

Snape felt a cold chill go down his spine. "You can't be serious, Potter," he bit out. "You have a second chance to do so many things. You've already started it by going into Slytherin."

"This isn't _my_ second chance, Severus," Harry said with a humorless chuckle. "It's _Wizarding Britain's_." Harry clapped his hands. "Now, while the Confundus or Obliviate wouldn't work long-term… they will in the short-term, and that's all I need." Harry raised his wand.

**_*HPDC*_**

Albus Dumbledore looked around the office of Amelia Bones gravely. Another body had been found by an early-morning shopper in Diagon Alley, bearing the same signs as that of Bartemius Crouch Sr. Albus had been woken from his sleep by a Patronus from Amelia Bones, and had come straight to the Ministry of Magic. "Have we identified the body?" he asked to the group that assembled. This time it was more stream-lined, with Amelia being the only D.M.L.E. representative, Croaker from the Department of Mysteries, the Minister, and Albus. Amelia would fill in her subordinates, Rufus Scrimgeour and Albert Runcorn, later on.

"No," Amelia said with a shake of her head. "The method The Phoenix uses to kill seems to leave no possible method of identifying the body. Last time we had the advantage of seeing Barty taken. This time… I dread to find out who was taken from our community this time."

"This is dreadful, just dreadful," Fudge fretted. "The public will need answers, and we have to find something to give them hope that we can stop this."

"Let us see what this _serial killer_ has left us," Amelia growled out, in part because of Fudge's fretting over public approval. The four gathered around the Pensieve and stuck a finger apiece in it.

_They were in a grand, ancient hall with a large, metallic door leading into it and a simple throne at the other end. Behind the throne lay a large stone basin, in which water seemed to bubble. A man was bound, kneeling, in the center of the room with a bag over his head._

Dumbledore gasped slightly. He had never been to this place himself, but he had seen it in the mind of another wizard, many years ago.

"Albus?" Amelia asked.

"During the War with Grindlewald, wizards on both sides were dropping like flies," Dumbledore said softly. "We captured a man believed to have been involved, as he was wounded during a failed attempt on the life of Charlus Potter. I used Legilimency on him, and I saw a room very much like this one. The man turned out to be a member of the League of Assassins, an ancient order of warriors that pre-date the written record by several hundred years. Their sworn duty is to serve the balance of the universe. This is too detailed a recreation of that man's memory of his headquarters to be coincidence. The Phoenix is, or was, a member of the League of Assassins."

"That is… troubling," Croaker said. "If true, it means they have chosen to interfere in our world again despite leaving us to deal with Voldemort on our own."

"Voldemort never threatened the balance of the world," Dumbledore replied with a shake of the head. "Perhaps if he had won in Britain and continued his campaign, they would have gotten involved. Or perhaps there is some unknown element which kept them from becoming involved during Voldemort's reign."

"Still," Amelia said, "it doesn't change the fact that this _assassin_ is taking the law into his own hands. Let's continue."

_The Phoenix coalesced in front of the man that was knelt on the ground, having been under a Disillusionment Charm. He waved a hand and the bag covering the man's face vanished, revealing the hooked nose, greasy hair, and sallow skin of Severus Snape._

Albus' footing faltered for a moment as he stared at the man who was his spy in Voldemort's camp. The Phoenix had just dealt a severe blow to the Light, though perhaps he believed he was doing so against the Dark, if he truly believed himself to be a servant of balance. Bartemius Crouch Sr., for all of his faults, had been a senior member of the 'Light' in the previous war.

Amelia glanced briefly at Dumbledore, then turned back to the memory.

"_**Severus Snape,**__" The Phoenix said coolly. "__**You have been judged and found wanting. You set the Dark Lord known as Voldemort on the path that led to the attack on James and Lily Potter; you have crippled the number of viable candidates for the Aurors and Healers with your work as Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and while in the service of the Dark Lord you raped, murdered, and poisoned numerous Muggles as well as wizards and witches who stood defiantly against your Master. Your supposed redemption in an effort to save Lily Potter, and only her, from your Master's wrath is a sham. You do not know what it is to love, to care for a person. You only care for yourself and how**_** you **_**think you feel for her. I know this, Severus, because I am like you. I am a man who was deprived of love, of human contact, by one who chose to control my life. But I no longer answer to him, and I will never answer to**_** anyone **_**again.**__" The Phoenix raised a finger and pointed at the man._

Dumbledore gazed intently at the ring. It was an intriguing design, one he thought he might have seen before, but he couldn't be sure.

Croaker eyed the ring as well; there was something about it that nagged at his memory, and he vowed to check the records in the Department of Mysteries.

"_**Do you have anything to say in your defense?**__" The Phoenix asked of Snape._

_Snape glared up at the man. "I have defied the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore," he spat. "Do you think I will cower and beg now? I am_ not _a coward, assassin! Finish it!"_

"_**Very well,**__" The Phoenix said. He drew his blade. "__**The lowest circle of Hell is reserved for traitors and spies, Severus Snape. You are both. Enjoy your reward.**__" The Phoenix plunged his blade into the condemned man, who did nothing but stare defiantly into The Phoenix's gaze, blood dribbling from his mouth. The Phoenix withdrew the blade, and just as with Crouch, Snape's body was burnt from the inside out._

The memory faded to black and the four were once more in Amelia's office.

"We have no choice," Fudge said. "We must release the information we have and offer a reward that leads to the capture of this madman. If others become inspired by him, we could see mass anarchy."

"I agree, Minister," Amelia said grimly. "We need the people to help us. We must also offer a reward for The Phoenix himself. In the meantime, if the 'charges' levied against Snape prove to be as accurate as those against Crouch, we're going to need to need to bolster our Aurors and Healers by offering remedial classes. Even if we don't have any Dark Lords, the mess at the World Cup with those rioters and now this _Phoenix_ character show that the amount of Aurors we have won't cut it, and if this character or any other opportunistic criminal were to ever target St. Mungo's…" Amelia shuddered, and she wasn't the only one. Fudge was very white, no doubt thinking of the numbers.

"You'll have your funding, Amelia," Fudge finally said. "I'll find some way to get it. We can't let these people continue to flout the law."

Dumbledore sighed. "I assume, Amelia, that you shall need to investigate Severus' dealings, including those at Hogwarts?" Amelia nodded sharply. "I only ask that you give me time to inform my students of the situation. In the meantime, I will need to find a new Potions Master." Dumbledore left the room, looking very defeated.

Fudge turned to Croaker. "Can you find a way to contact this League of Assassins? If one of their people is running amok, I would like to sit down with their leader and ask he stop this madman."

Croaker eyed Fudge and was thankful for the concealment charm on his cloak thanks to the incredulous stare he was giving him. The man had to be mad; a sit down with Ra's al Ghul? If Fudge did as he usually would, and tried to bluster his way through…

Then again, it'd remove an obstacle when the next Dark Lord rose and the likes of Lucius Malfoy, who easily controlled Fudge with the glint of gold, would flock to their banner.

"I will try," Croaker said evenly. "But Ra's al Ghul is not a man to be trifled with, Minister. Be certain this is a path you want to take. If you stir the wrath of the Demon, our entire world will feel the consequences."

**_*HPDC*_**

All the students of Hogwarts had been raised from slumber by an alarm ringing through the castle, and soon enough teachers had entered the dormitories. Not the Heads of House, no; instead, Sinistra had gone to Slytherin, Vector to Ravenclaw, Hooch to Gryffindor, and Trelawney to Hufflepuff. They had informed the students they needed to assemble and follow them to the Great Hall for a mandatory school meeting. The students had followed their orders, confused, and were now assembled at their House Tables, looking around uneasily. The banners of the school were all black with the symbol of Hogwarts super-imposed on them in astonishing white.

Soon, the Heads of House, minus Snape, entered the Great Hall, followed by the Headmaster himself. The trudging, weary step of the Headmaster startled all of the students, and they hushed as he took to the podium. "Students," Dumbledore began lowly, though his voice carried throughout the hall, "sometime last night, Professor Severus Snape was abducted from the castle by a vigilante that has taken up the identity of The Phoenix, the same individual who killed Director Bartemius Crouch Sr. of the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the aftermath of the World Cup. Like Director Crouch, Professor Snape was executed by The Phoenix. Aurors will be searching the castle later today for clues, and I ask that you not hinder their search. They may ask you questions; I urge you to answer them to the best of your ability.

"In response to this latest attack, the Ministry of Magic has chosen to issue an arrest warrant for the vigilante known as The Phoenix. Anyone with information that leads to the capture of this criminal will receive financial compensation." Dumbledore's eyes turned to the Slytherin table. "Until such a time as I can find a suitable replacement for Professor Snape, Professor Vector has volunteered to serve as interim Head of Slytherin house, and I myself shall teach Potions. Professor Snape was not a man of emotions, but he cared for each and every student of this school in his own way and favored his own House because he believed they were unfairly characterized. He would not wish to see the school devolve into a battleground in the aftermath of his death." Here, Dumbledore's gaze turned to the Gryffindor table. "Any comments that mock the sacrifices Professor Snape made, or the manner of his death and departure from this school, will be met _harshly_. I am not speaking of simple point losses. Detentions, suspension, and expulsion will be on the table."

Dumbledore departed the Hall, while more than a few eyes shifted towards a specific red-haired Gryffindor known for his lack of brain-to-mouth filter and a hatred for all things Slytherin and Severus Snape. The Weasley twins had buried their heads in their arms, already dreading their brother's single-handed destruction of their House's winning streak of the past three years.

**_A/N: So, hope everyone enjoyed this chapter._**


	8. Goblets & Demons

_**A/N: For those who don't read profile updates, I have a new AO3 account under the same penname I use here. **_

Chapter 8:

Goblets & Demons

Nearly two months had passed since the murder of Severus Snape, and it was now Halloween. In that time, no leads had been discovered, and Harry had slowly built a reputation in Slytherin as a powerful wizard who no longer reacted to things but watched and waited, figuring out things. He had recently developed a friendship with both Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass (one hailing from a Dark family, the other from one of the rare Neutrals), and Harry had already heard whispers that he was replacing Ron and Hermione with a new set of allies to call the 'Silver Trio' or the 'Slytherin Trio'. Harry, for his part, thought the wizarding world had a rather odd fixation on nicknames. Of course, he really couldn't talk, being called The Phoenix as his alter ego and having been trained by the League of Assassins, who all shed their old names and lives and took up new ones in his past life, up to the point of taking the name Ra's al Ghul.

Of course, Hogwarts had had to deal with its own issues with the loss of Snape. Dumbledore had managed to coax his old colleague, Horace Slughorn, out of retirement with the promise of lucrative bonuses and a dedicated research fund, but he wasn't due to begin work until November 1st, though that hadn't stopped him from coming two days early to be there when the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had arrived. They had also lost at least one student from each House other than Slytherin due to their inability to refrain from gloating over Snape's demise and targeting the Slytherins with nasty comments or actions that was suggestive that they were destined for a similar route. Dumbledore had been a man of his word: Zacharias Smith of Hufflepuff, Michael Corner of Ravenclaw, and Ron Weasley of Gryffindor had all been suspended or expelled.

The first to go was Ron Weasley, who faced a two-month suspension due to gloating towards Malfoy and his friends about Snape dying and no longer being able to favor the Slytherins and protect Malfoy and his buddies from punishment. Harry had overheard this and reported it to Professor Sinistra, who had in turn reported it to Dumbledore and McGonagall. Ron was due to arrive back on November 1, and he was also required to have _all_ of the homework he was set in his suspension ready to be graded, or he would be facing detentions. Harry somehow doubted that Ron's work would pass muster since he didn't have Hermione to push him and Molly Weasley's brand of mothering did one of two things: either pushed her children to excel, or pushed them to rebel and chafe; on occasion, like with Bill and Charlie, it seemed to have done both.

Zacharias Smith and Michael Corner, on the other hand, had been expelled for a truly horrific 'prank' on the Slytherins: during dinnertime in early October, an infestation of dead snakes had appeared amongst the food at the Slytherin Table. Neither Zacharias nor Michael had really understood that to get away with a prank you shouldn't boast about it, but they had. Dumbledore had been beside himself with rage; the death of a man he considered like a son had caused the old man to take a serious look at how he had let things slide. Due to his personal investment in this issue, Dumbledore had asked the four Heads of House to decide on the punishment for the two 'pranksters'.

McGonagall, who had been at Hogwarts for both the Marauders _and_ the Weasley Twins, had pushed for immediate expulsion because despite their various pranks, neither of the previously mentioned prankster gurus had gone _this_ far and traumatized so many students at once. It had been a unanimous decision, and both students had had their wands snapped before being sent home. Last anyone heard, Corner was at a hedge school somewhere down south, getting a mediocre education that simply didn't stimulate his mind, and Smith… well, he wasn't Zacharias Smith anymore. His family had felt he shamed their ancestor, Helga Hufflepuff, and disowned him. It turned out that the wizarding world had a special naming convention for those cast out of their families: their surname became Muggle. Zacharias Muggle was also at a hedge school, but would have to raise money for any classes after his O.W.L.s. Considering that being cast out of one's family made the individual in question a pariah, the likelihood he would find any gainful employment to pay for schooling beyond his O.W.L.'s was low.

Now, it was the night of the Name Drawing, and the Halloween Feast had been cleared as all the students from the three schools were on tenterhooks, waiting to learn who would become the Champion for each school. Harry had briefly considered whether to put his name forward as a candidate for Hogwarts, but in the end decided not to for the simple fact that Crouch Jr. would still be bamboozling the Goblet of Fire and even if Harry's name came out as Champion for Hogwarts, it would come out a second time.

No, it was best to just let this part play out as last time. It was what came after that would be changing.

Harry watched as each of the Champions were called and went through the door to the antechamber. As the Goblet of Fire turned red again, he watched as the paper with his name on it sprang forth, and Dumbledore caught it. When Dumbledore called his name, Harry stood and went to Dumbledore, who directed him to the antechamber. Harry went to the platform the teachers' table was at before turning around. He had always intended to nip this issue in the bud. "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my life and magic that I did not enter my name in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, or ask someone else to do it for me, so mote it be!" A flash of light erupted from Harry's wand, sealing the Oath, and Harry cast the Patronus Charm, confirming he still had his magic and that he was telling the truth. He was glad for his training in the League that kept him from showing surprise when his Patronus took the form of not a stag, but a thestral. Harry saw the stunned looks on everyone's face and assumed it was because of the fact he had made the oath and survived, meaning he had not cheated as they all no doubt had begun to think. Harry gave a slight bow to the teachers' table, then entered the antechamber.

The next five minutes or so went about as Harry had expected: the other three champions confused by what happened, though at least this time they knew about the Oath he just made, and none believed he entered. This time, though, the Ministry representative was the Minister himself; Harry wondered where Percy was, as he expected the officious little man to be here in place of his former boss. Once the Minister had conferred with Crouch and Dumbledore about the rules, in which they were forced to concede Harry had no choice but to compete or lose his magic, Harry made his move. "In that case," Harry said, "I believe that means I would have to be considered an adult wizard as of tonight. The Ministry of Magic made it very clear who could be considered contestants. Regardless of what's happened, they must keep their word."

Cornelius Fudge was, in many people's eyes, a bungler of the worst sort but the one thing he was good at was spotting excellent opportunities for good publicity. Having the Ministry grant the Boy-Who-Lived emancipation as a result of his forced entry into the Tournament would give them a good image in the eyes of the public and present Britain as forward-thinking for recognizing that sometimes, tradition mired them in problems too much. "I will personally see to it, Harry," Fudge said, and Harry gave nod at the man.

"Thank you, Minister," Harry said.

"Are you sure this is wise, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, Headmaster," Harry replied coolly. "Much wiser than hiding an important magical artifact behind traps that _first years_ could handle." McGonagall's nostrils flared at this, but she said nothing for fear her own indiscretions in that debacle came to light. Said first years _had_ gone to the adults and been brushed off, forcing them to take matters into their own hands.

The remainder of the meeting was as Harry expected, and soon enough he was heading back to the dungeons. Entering the Slytherin Common Room, he was greeted with nods of respect for his show in the Great Hall, and Draco waved him over. Once Harry was seated with him and Daphne, the latter cast a spell to keep people from listening in on them. "You didn't look surprised about the Goblet," Draco said flatly.

"No, I suppose I didn't," Harry said.

"You know who put your name in, don't you?" Daphne asked. "But you also didn't ask them to."

"Correct on both accounts," Harry said. "I know exactly who did, why they did, and what they hope to accomplish. The Muggle world has a saying: it's easier to lure in a bee with honey rather than vinegar. Better they think I don't know who did this. Besides, it's given me the leverage I needed to become emancipated."

"What are you planning, Potter?" Draco asked, eyeing the other boy with interest.

Harry leaned back in his seat. "Who said anything about a plan? Plans are great things, but they never survive contact with real life." Daphne smirked at that; she had tried to get that through to Draco for three years now with all his mad plans to get Harry and Ron expelled. She removed the spell that kept their conversation private and a few other Slytherins wandered over, these being the 'power behind the throne' types. It was time to help Harry plan how to present himself as the Champion. As he listened to the discussion about his robe style, what kind of material it should be made of, and other such things that simply weren't his forte, Harry's mind drifted back to the meeting and wondered where exactly Percy Weasley was.

**_*HPDC*_**

When Percy Weasley had been brought into the Minister's office the week following the deaths of his boss and Severus Snape, he had honestly expected to discover he would be being shunted off to another department, an unimportant one at that due to the fact that his father had a reputation in the Ministry. Instead, he had been given a task of monumental importance and assured a suitable position upon his return to London once the task was accomplished. That task? Seek out Ra's al Ghul in Nanda Parbat and get any and all information he could about the man known as The Phoenix.

But what Percy had not realized was the amount of _work_ that would be put into finding Nanda Parbat itself. Not even the Department of Mysteries knew where it was, and so he Percy had been forced to investigate every clue he could that the magical world had. This search had led him from Britain to the Continent, and he had tracked down every rumor he could while seeking the mysterious headquarters of the League of Assassins, unknowingly following the same path that, in a different timeline, Harry Potter would have been following in a few years' time, just without the carnage being left behind him.

Now he was in the midst of a desert, having been assured by local wizards that this area was heavily warded and yet no one knew for certain why that was as no magical settlements had been in place. He was looking around, knowing that using anything like a Mage Sight spell would be useless as the League of Assassins was rumored to be predominantly made up of Muggles in this day and age, as opposed to the past when it had had more magical members (and thus had wards). Percy was sure that his father would have loved meeting such a large group of Muggles, but Percy wanted nothing more than to find this League, speak to their leader, and get back to London. He was unaware that the Minister had been informed by the Department of Mysteries that sending an unannounced emissary to Nanda Parbat would be unwise, but he might have begun wondering about that when he felt a stinging sensation in the side of his neck. A moment later, he collapsed; the Tibetan Pit Viper venom had been diluted enough that it was used as a sedative to bring intruders down so they could be judged by the Demon's Head at a time of his choosing.

Percy woke up hours later as he was dragged into the throne room of Nanda Parbat. Ra's himself was seated in his chair, watching the red-haired man. On the floor beneath him were the man's effects: a wand, a watch, and a Ministry badge that had been charmed as Portkey for his return trip. "It has been some time since a wizard has entered Nanda Parbat," Ra's said, watching as the young man, a boy really, was forced to his knees. "Who are you and why have you come here?"

"My name is Percy Weasley, and I'm a representative of the British Ministry of Magic," Percy said, instinctively knowing that his usual pompousness or self-important air might not be conducive to this discussion. "I was sent by my government to seek an audience with Ra's al Ghul, the head of the League of Assassins? Are you he?"

"I am," Ra's said, tilting his head. "Why do you court death so overtly, Mr. Weasley? You enter our domain with nary a whisper of intent, and you come armed." Here, Ra's nudged Percy's wand. "You must have good reason."

"I did," Percy said. "Two high-profile members of British wizarding society have been murdered. Memory evidence provided by the killer revealed him to be a former member of the League of Assassins who calls himself The Phoenix. He also wears an unusual ring on his finger, a ring our Department of Mysteries informs us is tied to the League of Assassins." Ra's looked to the side to one of his men, who departed without a word. Percy, not noticing this, continued, "We are seeking any information you could provide about this man."

Ra's was silent as he pondered what the man had told them. He knew for a fact that the only magical members of the League, of which there were very, very few, were all accounted for and didn't hail from England. "What is this evidence you speak of?" he asked.

"Both pieces of evidence came to light with the murder of Severus Snape," Percy said. "The memory included not only the addition of the ring, but also a recreation of this very room, down to that cistern behind you." Ra's' eyebrows raised at this. The member who had departed returned with a scroll, which he handed to Ra's; the Demon's Head stood and approached the Ministry representative.

"Is this the Ring you speak of?" Ra's asked softly, unfurling the scroll and showing the image on it to Percy.

Percy took a long, hard look at it before nodding. "Yes, it is."

"My thanks for bringing us this information, Mr. Weasley," Ra's said, before he drew his blade. Percy had only a moment to widen his eyes and open his mouth to shout before Ra's' blade plunged through his heart, silencing him forever. The body fell to the ground and Ra's cleaned his blade and replaced it in his scabbard. He turned to his Horseman. "Assemble our magical assassins, Al Sa-Her," he said. "You will lead them to England find this 'Phoenix'. Once you have brought him back here, I shall grant you your freedom."

"As you command, Master," Al Sa-Her said with a bow before departing to do as he commanded. He had asked for Ra's to give him a task to earn his freedom every so often so he could return to Starling and begin bringing justice to those poisoning his city, like the man who had murdered Rebecca. Now, he had his chance and he would not fail.

**_A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed this one. Ah, poor Percy…_**


	9. Draconian Chances

Chapter 9:

Draconian Chances

Brushing a finger over the Dragon's Claw ring, Harry frowned. He still didn't know what this ring meant, but if he was to believe Luna (and seeing as she always perceived the truth of things, in her own way, he had no reason to doubt her), then it declared him Ra's. Yet it didn't declare him Ra's al Ghul, he knew; otherwise he would have the other ring on his finger, the one he had worn in the future that no longer existed. The Dragon's Claw ring, for now, was hidden from sight by a form of magic that he hadn't encountered. Only those he wanted to see the Ring could see it, and only if he willed it to be seen in this form. They would see it when he was The Phoenix, of course, but not when he was playing the role of Harry Potter, fourth year Slytherin.

It had been nearly three weeks since the Champion drawing, and in that time, Harry had been learning a great deal about a form of magic he had never used before yet discovered an affinity towards. It wasn't surprising, if he thought about it; the primary spells witches and wizards had learned to control in the early years were those connected to the elements. It was only in later years they developed things like stunning, and eventually began to rely on spells that weren't derived from the elements, to the point that (aside from the forbidden Fiendfyre) the 'elemental' spells left in a wizard's arsenal were spells like Incendio and Aguamenti, weakened versions of the powerful elements they pretended to command.

Harry had also been learning more about Parselmagic, specifically its offensive uses. He had learned through the Goblins of Gringotts that he had a stake in a magical creatures farm, which bred magically infused animals, ranging from cats and dogs to more exotic creatures such as snakes. He had ordered a pair of Anacondas, which had been delivered in stasis (as required for transportation of living animals across international borders) and awakened in the Chamber of Secrets by Harry himself. The two had been very pleased with the idea of serving a Parselmouth. Their names were Juan and Alejandro, and both were eager to help their new master in whatever method he desired.

Finally, Harry had been learning about rituals that were in books that he discovered in the Chamber itself, books that he suspected Tom Riddle, and other Heirs of Slytherin before him, had left there for safekeeping. Several of them intrigued him, and he would have to consider them moving forward. It would be a while, yet, before he had the chance to focus, and the rituals he was interested in had to be performed within months of one another. He just didn't have the time while learning everything else.

Harry had decided that this time around, when it came to the tasks, he would have a bit of flair to his spellwork and do something that would set these people talking. He was done letting people see him as weak,3 malleable, as someone who they could lead along by the nose. He had even let the Slytherins think this when he was Re-Sorted, but only so he could make an impact at a time of his choosing. That time was the First Task. He was Harry Potter, Al Anqua, Ra's al Ghul; he had traversed time itself and sentenced billions to die for this chance. He was not going to squander it a moment more simply because it might be inconvenient. Pretending to be the simple-minded 14-year-old he had been was simply too _dull_.

Tomorrow was the First Task, and he was about to show the wizarding world what being Harry Potter really meant.

**_*HPDC*_**

Malcolm Merlyn fiddled with the ring he wore on his right hand. It had been enchanted by his associates, the magical assassins, so that he could bypass Muggle-Repelling Charms. In essence, they said, he would now register as a Squib. He had been warned that the British Wizarding World, much like most of the European wizards, were rather arrogant and saw Squibs (or, indeed, Muggles like Malcolm actually was) as below them, like cattle or some other unintelligent animal. Malcolm had had to resist crushing the larynx of more than one British wizard since arriving here two weeks ago. He was currently waiting with most of his companions for their final companion to return from retrieving their passes to today's event at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had read about the Tournament in their time here looking for the Phoenix, who had been rather silent since the death of Severus Snape.

Their missing companion arrived with the portkey and passes that would allow them on the grounds of Hogwarts. The biggest names in wizarding Britain would be at the school, and if the Phoenix was targeting these people as they suspected, then he would be present on the grounds of Hogwarts today. This was a golden opportunity to contact the man who knew Nanda Parbat inside and out, yet according to Ra's al Ghul, had never served there to his knowledge.

**_*HPDC*_**

Harry was amused to note that this time around, Cedric Diggory looked like was about to drown in vomit with how much he was swallowing. Apparently, without him to tell the boy, Diggory hadn't learned of the Task's challenge until just now, leaving him fully unprepared. Considering that Cedric had only gotten out of it last time with a burned face because he had known what he was facing and been prepared for it with a few days to spare, Harry wondered in cold amusement if he would end up being the Hogwarts champion by default by the end of the day.

Fleur and Viktor were looking like they had expected this, and Harry noted the other three had looked over at him and seen his lack of surprise. No doubt their foreign guests were surprised Harry hadn't informed his fellow Hogwarts student; Cedric was eying Harry with disgust when not fighting the urge to vomit. It was a good thing Harry didn't need to depend on Cedric to know what the Second Task was.

After the judges departed, Harry sank into a meditative position, connecting with his magic on a deep level for what he was intending to do during the Task. He retained a peripheral awareness of his surroundings, but other than that allowed nothing to distract him.

**_*HPDC*_**

Malcolm Merlyn sat with his fellows in the stands set aside for visiting adults from the wizarding world. Malcolm had to admit, he found it more than a little disturbing that this magical world was willing to use children this way, pitting them against creatures like dragons for the sake of entertainment. If it had been a sport like that Quidditch he had read about during their time in Diagon Alley, he could at least see the appeal. There was no chance of school age children having too many issues there.

But this? Malcolm had to admit, he was glad this Phoenix character was apparently taking care of business. As he understood it, one of the primary organizers of this tournament had been the Phoenix's first victim. Malcolm tried to picture allowing his own son, Tommy, or his godson, Oliver, to be involved in this sort of "competition" and he knew that if either of them ever found themselves in such a position, he would gladly carve out the heart of the person who suggested it.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, students, and distinguished guests," boomed Ludo Bagman, the announcer for today's 'festivities' from where he was seated in the next 'booth' over from where the contingent of assassins stood. "Welcome to the First Task of the 1994 Tri-Wizard Tournament. For those interested, there will be a reception in the Great Hall afterward as a meet-and-greet." Malcolm made mental note of this, knowing the Phoenix would not give up such an opportunity to rub shoulders with his targets. It was what any assassin trained in Nanda Parbat would do. "First up, against the Swedish Short-Snout, is Cedric Diggory!" Cheers erupted from the Hogwarts contingent, and polite clapping from everyone else as the dragon was moved into the arena. This was the first dragon that Malcolm had ever seen. It was on the smallish side, according to his companions; if this was a 'small' dragon, Malcolm wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know what a 'large' dragon looked like. Sadly, he had the foreboding feeling he would before the end of the day.

The Diggory boy appeared at the opening into the arena, and even from this distance, Malcolm could tell the boy looked like he was about to lose his lunch. He raised his wand and tapped himself on the head, disappearing from sight. Malcolm heard one of his wizarding companions groaning at this and turned to look at him. The other assassin, seeing Malcolm's look, quietly whispered, "The boy must have not learned about the dragons until just now. He panicked and went with a stand-by for magical creatures, the Disillusionment Charm. It doesn't work on dragons, though; they see in infra-red. If he was in his right mind, he'd have realized."

Malcolm turned back to the spectacle, calling upon his League training to keep his expression blank of all emotion as he waited to see what would happen. At first, it appeared that the dragon was not going to bother with the near-invisible interloper. Ludo Bagman was espousing the wonders of the Disillusionment Charm and questioning whether the Swedish Short Snout was defective when suddenly it snapped forward, jaws clamping down on the 'invisible' prey. A shake of her head, and the dragon had rendered the Hogwarts champion to little more than chopped meat before flinging the wizardling into the air. The body parts rained down on the Hogwarts contingent to screams of denial and fear. The dragon handlers didn't bother with stinging spells: they were authorized, in the case of death, to ensure the dragon could not threaten another wizard's life. A number of green _Avada Kedavra_ spells shot from their wands, destroying the dragon's life force.

A pall had set over the crowd with the death of Cedric Diggory. Malcolm noted that one of the Hogwarts students had to be taken away, emotional as she was. Probably the Diggory boy's girlfriend; or at least his sexual partner. Who knew how Wizarding Britain handled relationships; for all Malcolm knew, they stuck with the 'tried and true' method of courtships and betrothal contracts. It took nearly 20 minutes for them to remove the dragon and any 'leftovers'. Finally, the next dragon and champion were called. Fleur Delacour managed to distract the dragon long enough to get the egg, but nearly got set ablaze. Luckily, the snort of fire only barely caught the hem of her robe and that was easily put out. Viktor Krum blinded the dragon with a spell Malcolm's fellow assassins told him was the Conjunctivitis Curse and got away with the golden egg relatively unscathed, though he had plenty of eggs smashed by the dragon.

Malcolm felt a small curdle of dread in his stomach as the final champion, now the only _Hogwarts_ champion, entered the arena against the biggest and cruelest looking of the dragons he had seen today. If Diggory, who was older and more knowledgeable about the magical world than Harry Potter, had died, were they about to see the death of another Champion?

To Malcolm's shock, though, the boy seemed to have a plan in mind like the other two champions that had survived, meaning he had not only _known_ about the dragons but prepared for them, unlike his older counterpart. Perhaps he had assumed that Diggory knew?

The boy let out a hissing noise, which caused a number of witches and wizards in the stands to look down at him in consternation. "A Parselmouth?" one of Malcolm's companions mused in surprise. "Well, that is interest-" the man cut off as the rocks and boulders of the arena came together, forming an oddly-humanoid shape. A flash of brilliant light blinded the crowd briefly, and when it cleared, the oddly formed rocks had become a large, stone figure. "A golem!" Malcolm's companion gasped.

Ludo Bagman appeared to be stunned like most of the crowd as the golem lurched forward. As it clashed with the Hungarian Horntail, he cleared his throat and said, "Well, it looks like the youngest champion has more than a few tricks up his sleeve! The art of creating golems was thought lost centuries ago! Indeed, the last known case of a golem in Britain was in the early 1400s. This certainly evens up the odds for our young Mr. Potter!"

The golem's fist crashed down on the dragon's head, eliciting a roar of outrage from the dragon. The fight captivated the audience, and Malcolm noticed the boy who had conjured the golem skirting the edge of the arena, heading to the nest. The conclusion was foregone in Malcolm's mind.

Meanwhile, the dragon had lashed out at the golem with one of its talons, knocking the stone figure backwards. It lurched forward before rearing up, gathering its wind, before breathing out fire at the golem, which caught the blast full on in the 'face'. When the dragon finished, the glowing form of the golem stumbled forward. Those who were able to multi-task noted Harry getting away with the egg and reaching the entrance to the arena as the golem seemed to melt, the molten rock finally giving way to the heat the dragon had turned on it. The dragon handlers unleashed a series of stunners, taking the dragon down after numerous hits.

**_*HPDC*_**

Harry was checked over by Madam Pomfrey, who huffed. "Amazing, Mr. Potter, you appear to have avoided injury and aside from the emotional issues that will come from facing a dragon, even remotely, you'll be just fine," the school nurse said.

"You sound like you expected me to be horribly maimed," Harry replied dryly. "What do you take me for, a thrill-seeker?" Madam Pomfrey gave him a look, and Harry added, "Don't answer that."

A low chuckle from nearby signaled that Viktor Krum had been eavesdropping. "You knew about the dragons," the Bulgarian champion rumbled as Madam Pomfrey headed off to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, who were sequestered behind a partition. "Why did you not warn your fellow?"

"I assumed he would find out like we all did," Harry said with a shrug. In truth, Harry had half-expected Crouch Jr. would use Cedric to try and warn Harry about the dragons but couldn't help but feel some amusement that he hadn't. Harry had had no use for Cedric in this repeat, and so he had let the Tournament decide if Cedric was actually worthy of the honor. Though that begged a further question for him; who would they have as his hostage in the Second Task since he had cut ties with all those that he had been close to previously? "I was focused on my own preparations, so I didn't really take notice of what everyone else was doing." Viktor studied him for a moment, then nodded. Still, Harry expected there to be a few confrontations before the day was done.

He was one hundred percent correct in those expectations.

**_A/N: Goodbye, Cedric… and there's at least one more death upcoming in this next slew of chapters._**


	10. Power Play

Chapter 10:

Power Play

A pall hung over the meet and greet in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, a pall in the form of the memory of Cedric Diggory. Despite all the precautions that the Tournament organizers had put into place, one of their champions was dead. A cold, calculating viewpoint would be that Hogwarts was "still in the running" since Harry Potter was still alive, but for those who had shunned Harry and embraced Cedric as the real champion due entirely to the fact that Harry was a Slytherin, it was anathema to admit it. Instead, there was a lot of muttering amongst the students as Harry met a number of people in the Great Hall, but no one confronted the famous Slytherin outright. There would be a time for that later, as far as they were concerned.

Harry was taking note of everyone present. This was an event that hadn't occurred in the previous timeline, but taking a look around, he noted the number of Aurors present at the school and he had a feeling he knew why this event was happening: the Ministry was trying to draw out The Phoenix by serving up the powerful and corrupt on a platter, so to speak. Harry couldn't help but find it amusing that they thought they could so easily trap him with this kind of move. Still, it helped him get a feel for those who would need taken down once he had also ensured their successors were not going to be able to cause trouble.

As Harry finished with another round of handshakes and small talk, he happened to catch a glimpse of a face he had not expected to see; luckily, he had control of his Occlumency shields otherwise he might well have overplayed his hand upon spotting Malcolm Merlyn looking around the Great Hall from a corner with a group of three others. So, the League of Assassins were in Hogwarts; like the Ministry, they likely thought this was a prime location to search for The Phoenix. Harry kept his eye on them without being too obvious, and at one point noticed them all break away and begin mingling. Harry angled so he would meet up with Malcolm. "Hello, there," he said brightly as he popped up in front of the man he would kill in another timeline.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Hello," he said with a quick grin. "Harry, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "You're looking a little lost there, Mister…" he trailed off leadingly.

"King," Malcolm said after a moment. "Arthur King." The two shook hands, and Harry used the handshake to cast a wandless tracking charm on the man in front of him. He and the League had some business to discuss tonight, it would seem. "And I'm here with some friends from abroad. They thought it would be educational for an American Squib, I think is the term you use here, to see what life is like in Britain."

"Well, at least you own the phrase," Harry said lightly. "I have a friend who doesn't let the word for Muggleborns, or First-Gens as you would call them over in America, let her down. Well, I call her a friend… more of an acquaintance nowadays. We have some _philosophical_ differences these days."

"Ah, that can happen when you're growing up," Malcolm said. "I had very few friends growing up myself. I found my best friends after I was a teenager."

"Well, I should get back to being the performing monkey," Harry said. "Nice meeting you, Mr. King." Harry headed off with a little wave, and Malcolm watched him go, amused.

Harry's path around the room was interrupted by none other than Albus Dumbledore. "Harry, I'd like a word in my office," the headmaster told him quietly. Harry nodded and followed the headmaster out of the hall, a light smirk crawling up his face as he felt another 'presence' joining up with them. Oh, this was good. Now, if he found just the right way of doing it, he could deal with a nuisance before it became too much of an issue.

Once the two had reached Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore raised a ward. "That will keep anyone from interrupting us," he said quietly. "Take a seat." Harry did so, flicking the small beetle climbing his leg off onto the floor and crushing it beneath his dragonhide boot. Lifting, he noted, with some satisfaction, that the beetle had not had some kind of magical protection despite simply being an Animagus form for a particularly odious character. Looking up, he saw Dumbledore frowning at him. After a few tense minutes of silence, Dumbledore finally asked, "Who are you? You're not Harry Potter. Harry would never use Parseltongue so cavalierly, nor does he have the power to craft a golem."

"You mean because you've ensured I was kept weak and malleable, so you could lead me like a lamb to the slaughter, Professor Machiavelli?" Harry asked. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but all those schemes of yours are simply obsolete. I _am_ Harry Potter. More importantly, I am the Lord of the House of Potter, Heir Apparent to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and I am someone who does not allow _anyone_ to manipulate me, especially a coward who hides in a tower." Harry had discovered that Potter and Peverell, despite being intermingled, were separate lordships and had decided to use the Peverell title in a different manner, one that could help him in the long run.

Dumbledore's magic seemed to press in on Harry, who responded by unleashing his own aura. The room was saturated with the magic of two powerful wizards, neither of whom was willing to back down. Elsewhere in the castle, the magical elite and the students of three schools felt the power building. For some, it quailed them; for others, it sent a thrill of fear as the last time anyone had felt this, Dumbledore was battling Voldemort in Diagon Alley near the end of the war. The Aurors left the Great Hall, wands out and prepared as most of them were certain that Dumbledore had cornered The Phoenix.

"Your power doesn't scare me, Albus," Harry said softly. "Nor does your knowledge. I have had plenty of time to learn how to counteract your specific dueling strategem. We can fight this out, or you can listen."

"I am not a coward, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore replied just as softly. "And you have had mere months. That is hardly 'plenty of time'."

"Cowardice takes many forms," Harry returned, a hard edge to his voice. "Sometimes, it's the act of never taking action when it's needed. Other times, it's allowing murderers and rapists to walk free rather than treat them as enemy combatants. If you take a poisonous snake in your arms, you should be ready for when it sinks its fangs into your throat." Harry tilted his head. "And I believe we both know there are many ways I could have had 'plenty of time', especially in a world where galleons buy influence."

Dumbledore tilted his head. "To fight one's enemies takes great courage," he said, "but to spare the life of an enemy takes still greater courage."

"If that enemy isn't one intending to wipe out your existence," Harry replied. "But if they are, then allowing them to live is simple foolishness."

"It appears we are at a philosophical impasse," Dumbledore mused.

"An impasse requires us to consider both points of view as equally valid," Harry replied. "I don't consider yours valid at all. I consider them to be the height of foolishness at best, cowardice at worst. No wonder Wormtail was able to be a part of your precious Order of the Phoenix."

"What, precisely, have I done to earn such enmity from you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, looking pained.

Harry met the old man's gaze, his Occlumency shields up but ready to show the man all of his pain. "You ensured that I would never truly know what it means to be loved," he said quietly, feeling the old man's tendrils in his mind. He shoved all his memories of the Dursleys, of fighting for his life at Hogwarts, of hopelessness into those tendrils. Dumbledore reared back in his chair as though he had been shot by a well-timed bullet and looking at Harry with horror and regret. "We will talk of this another time," Harry interrupted the man. He turned to look at the door. "We have company."

Once things with the Aurors had settled and they left after hearing it was merely a 'philosophical difference' and that Dumbledore was showing Harry how to control his aura so as to not scare others (which didn't fall under 'helping his student in the Tournament'), Harry was dismissed. Dumbledore, curious as to what Harry had done when he sat down, circled around and saw the small smear of a bug. Waving his wand, he cleaned up the mess with a quick _Evanesco_. A few weeks from now, he would be musing over the peculiar absence of the poisonous Ms. Skeeter. For now, though, his mind was focused on what Harry had said. "_You ensured that I would never truly know what it means to be loved._"

That was far too close to what The Phoenix had said to Severus before killing him for Dumbledore's comfort. Did Harry know The Phoenix? It made the possibility of The Phoenix being Sirius Black more plausible… and caused concern for Dumbledore as it would suggest Sirius had, in fact, held a great deal back in his confessions and in his schoolwork.

**_*HPDC*_**

Malcolm and his associates were sitting down for a meal when they heard a noise outside. The next moment, what could only be described as a wave of darkness flooded through the room, blocking their vision and forcing them to rely on their other senses. Malcolm used the League training to focus on sound and 'sensing' where his fellow assassins were. Ta'er Al Nasr, the Eagle, was standing near the stove; Al Ta'Lab, the Fox, was opposite Malcolm with Al Samak, The Fish, right beside him… and there was another presence directly in front of Malcolm. Malcolm launched a direct punch and felt a pair of hands seize his wrist and elbow. A moment later, Malcolm was flying through the air and collided with The Eagle. Both let out yells of pain as they were knocked onto the stove and caught fire. Through the pain, Malcolm could hear the intruder take down both The Fox and The Fish. _Magic_, he thought. It had to be. Which meant that the intruder could only be one person, at least the only one who would have recognized them for what they were.

Sure enough, when the darkness dissipated and became nothing more than black grains of 'sand' in the palm of the intruder, the Phoenix stood in the center of the room. Malcolm noticed that both the Fox and the Fish were convulsing. The Eagle had quieted not long after colliding with Malcolm, and when Malcolm looked, he saw that the Eagle had a throwing star embedded in his throat. He reached out… "**I wouldn't touch that if I were you,**" the Phoenix said, and Malcolm withdrew his hand on instinct. "**It's coated with a deadly toxin, kills in minutes.**" He gestured to the convulsing forms of the Fox and the Fish. "**They will be dead soon enough.**"

"Why spare me?" Malcolm asked. "Ra's will want you dead for what you've done here, so why not seal your fate?"

"**Because it is not your fate to die at my hand… yet,**" the Phoenix replied coolly. "**You have things you must do, Malcolm Merlyn, before you can earn your eternal reward. Whether Ra's al Ghul chooses to kill you is up to him.**" The Phoenix tilted his head. "**Now, I'm guessing a self-important Ministry toady came looking for information on me in Nanda Parbat. That toady is now dead, and Ra's wants me to speak with him in Nanda Parbat.**" Malcolm nodded silently. "**You may inform the Demon's Head that I shall come to Nanda Parbat by July 1 in the coming year. Any attempt to force a meeting will see the death of his Heir. I doubt he'll want to start all over again or be forced to acknowledge Talia.**"

With that, the Phoenix left, and Malcolm was both confused and filled with trepidation. He had seen Ra's kill men for lesser sins… bringing a message like that to the Demon's Head may well earn him death. But if he fled, they would go for Tommy, and Malcolm would not allow his son to come to harm. He would have to hope the Demon was feeling merciful.

**_*HPDC*_**

The Phoenix appeared with a very small crack. He had taken the Whomping Willow tunnel to the Shrieking Shack to leave Hogwarts, but he didn't want to use the same way to return. He was kind of paranoid about that. He remembered the cave that Sirius had used and chosen that as his destination. As he saw the village of Hogsmeade below, he sighed and reached up to undo his cowl, allowing it to fall back. He let out a sigh as he looked down at the village. "Almost looks like there's no war," he muttered, "and maybe to them there isn't. But the war for balance is never over." It was at that point he felt the point of a wand stick into the back of his head.

"Slowly turn," a rough voice said behind him. "Otherwise the hippogriff might decide to tear you to pieces."

The Phoenix turned sharply, right arm coming up and snatching the wand out of the surprised wizard's hand. His left hand swept up in a gesture and sent the man in raggedy robes flying out of the way before bowing to the Hippogriff, which cocked its head before returning the bow. The Phoenix patted the majestic creature's feathers before turning to the man. "That's no way to greet your godson, old dog," he said, green eyes twinkling as he met the gaping expression of his godfather, Sirius Black.

**_A/N: Yeah, I know, Sirius is early, but frankly I always thought Sirius ended up in the cave right when he returned. _**

**_So… *shrugs* Anyways, next chapter has some nice action._**

**_Ah, Rita Skeeter… no one will miss you. Except maybe judgmental bitches like Molly Weasley who are so easily influenced. And before anyone tries to argue that point… Lockhart and Rita's article on Harry-Hermione-Krum in canon. It is CANON that Molly Weasley is easily influenced even when she knows someone. _**


	11. An Embattled Reunion

Chapter 11:

An Embattled Reunion

"H-Harry?" Sirius stammered out in shock, examining the man claiming to be his godson. The man looked like James would have if he had reached an age older than 21 and had Lily's eyes. He was dressed in an odd black uniform, one that Sirius was certain he had seen somewhere. But his eyes carried the look of someone who had seen far too much. "I don't understand how this is possible," he murmured.

Harry, who had simply been glad to see his godfather again (there was a small part of him that saw Sirius as the father figure he had always wanted, after all), chuckled. "Sorry," he said quietly, countering the Ageing Potion and switching into his normal clothes. "I forgot about the whole ensemble," he said, now looking 14 again. Sirius stepped forward, and after a moment pulled Harry into a hug. "I'm happy you're here, Sirius," Harry said, and meant it. He wasn't going to let Sirius rot away on the run again; he had worried he would need to wait until February like last time.

Harry hadn't been lying to Dumbledore when they had spoken earlier. As far as he was concerned, Dumbledore's inaction when it came to Sirius (up to and including keeping Sirius locked away in Grimmauld Place) had eventually led to Sirius dying before they had a real chance to connect. Dumbledore had kept him from really having anything resembling a family, and contrary to popular opinion, the Weasleys did not count. Perhaps if he was a shallow and wholly inept individual, he would consider the thin ties he had to them as 'familial' in nature, but he would never forget Molly Weasley practically forcing he and Sirius apart, nor the fact that Molly was a huge supporter of Dumbledore. While Harry doubted Dumbledore had 'ordered' anything, he wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore had 'suggested' that Sirius and Harry not be alone together as Sirius was 'unstable' from Azkaban.

"It's good to see you, pup," Sirius said, pulling back and taking a good long look at his godson. "What's been going on? Your last letter mentioned that you'd been entered in the Tournament. It also mentioned your Re-Sorting." Harry gave his godfather a brief, but uneasy look, remembering that Sirius had had issues with Slytherin House due to his family. The man noticed the look and shook his head. "I'm not angry, Harry. How could I be when I've had to embrace those very traits to survive on the run? If I'd acted like a Gryffindor I'd have been caught long before we ever met last June." Harry relaxed and grinned at his godfather. He knew it was stupid; he was nearly 40 years old mentally, damn it, but for someone who had been denied any sort of father figure in his life, having the approval of someone who was _intended_ to fill that role by his parents if they couldn't felt good.

If Harry had ever talked to a psychologist or therapist about this feeling, he would know that it was common amongst those who had been abused (in any fashion, but especially emotionally/mentally) to seek the approval of those they were able to care about, even more so if they were in some fashion related or saw that person as family. For someone who had been deprived of true family all his life, Harry had latched onto Sirius and held that emotional stance to the man even after he died.

"A lot, Sirius," Harry said with a sigh, unconsciously casting perimeter charms to ensure they weren't interrupted. Sirius raised an eyebrow but settled down on the ground, Harry doing the same moments later. "I'm honestly not sure where to begin… tell me, do you believe people can do _anything_ with magic? Including sending their souls, or consciousness, back through time?"

"I believe there's a lot magic is capable of, Harry," Sirius said. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was possible, but I can't imagine the cost. Even if we're not like those who use idols or call upon demons to give them power, wizards and witches know that all magic comes at a price. For the most part, we pay that price by expending energy from our own internal reserves. Its why things like magical exhaustion occur." Sirius tilted his head, studying his godson. "But you're not asking theoretically, are you?"

"No," Harry said softly. "It took me a _long_ time to gather the influence I needed, but I succeeded. I used a ritual to send my consciousness back to this past summer. It was when I could affect the most change or start to."

"Tell me something only I would be able to tell you, something we haven't talked about," Sirius said softly.

"You and Dad used to use communication mirrors in detention to plan pranks right under McGonagall's nose," Harry began. "Your mother, Walburga Black, is an utter banshee and wouldn't be too far from the common idea of what a witch looks like. Your room at Grimmauld Place has pictures of Muggle girls in bikinis. Nice work at being both your average teenage boy and pissing off the pureblood bigots you sadly call family, Sirius."

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. "Alright, I'm convinced," he said. "The mirrors and even my mother, you might've learned just from hearsay or from Remus. But my room at Grimmauld Place? The only person alive who has seen it was your Dad, and that was when Mr. Potter and he helped me go and pack for the last time." Sirius sighed before shaking his head to avoid getting lost in nostalgia and gave his godson a considering look. "Alright, you said you came back to change things. What did you mean? Did Voldemort or someone like him take over?"

"Voldemort's just a symptom of a bigger problem," Harry scoffed. "Dumbledore's part of the same problem. And don't try to defend the old bastard," Harry added, pointing a finger at his godfather. "Do what you refused to do after that Halloween and think. The Light supposedly won, right? What did they accomplish? Were Muggleborns more accepted? Were other magical beings seen as equals? Did the justice system punish the guilty and spare the innocent? I may not like Lupin, but he and every other werewolf who isn't a psychopath like Fenrir Greyback don't deserve to be lumped in with that monster, yet they are; Muggleborns are seen as, at best, second-class citizens; goblins, centaurs and the like are treated even worse; and we both know the justice system answers to the clinking of gold."

Sirius was silent as he considered what Harry had said. He had to admit, his godson had a point. Had things really changed after the War? No, they hadn't. He knew better than anyone that things hadn't changed and that the Light side had become corrupt in its own way. Crouch was seen as heavily Light, even more so than Dumbledore in some ways thanks to his visibility as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement throughout the War, yet he had authorized the use of the Unforgivables, and he had sent Sirius to Azkaban without trial, using his war-time powers as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (Dumbledore had taken over as Chief Warlock after Crouch Jr. had been sent to Azkaban and Crouch Sr. had been publicly shamed).

Everything else Harry said, Sirius had found to be true upon escaping and getting a feel for the wizarding world. There were _advantages_ being a hunted man. It opened new doors for him in the dark corners of the wizarding world, corners that the likes of Lucius Malfoy weren't able to frequent without risking their public image. By spending time in those dark corners, Sirius had discovered some harsh truths about the British wizarding world, how deep the corruption ran. He also knew that Dumbledore was among those who ignored this reality, despite having someone inside those circles: Mundungus Fletcher. Dumbledore allowed the status quo to remain instead of spinning his influence into action. "You're right, Harry," Sirius finally said. "But I don't understand what you can do to change that."

"I can cut out the corruption," Harry replied coldly. "I've already begun. Bartemius Crouch Sr. Severus Snape. They will not be able to weaken the wizarding world. I'm in Slytherin to gain intelligence on the other side. I know who played a role in continuing the corruption after the war. Some of them are mere students, easily malleable if you know how to _properly_ direct their energies. But their predecessors… they need to be taken out."

"What happened that made you come back?" Sirius asked. "And what did you mean earlier about saying you don't like Remus?"

"In answer to your latter question: During the war, Remus used his condition as an excuse to not commit to having a family. It took me telling him he was a coward to get him to man up. There's also the fact that I never heard from him before last year, or after unless it was _authorized_ by the old bastard from his ivory tower. As for the former: after the war, a compromise was reached between the Light and Dark factions. Muggle-born children would be taken as toddlers and replaced with Squibs, or if there were no Squibs available, the parents would be obliviated. The children would then be blood-adopted into ailing families. Ron and Hermione embracing this law was the last straw for me, especially with the Ministry once more ignoring the Death Eaters still at large. I left Britain and pursued Antonin Dolohov across Europe and into Asia. I killed every Dark Wizard who harbored him as a warning. I finally caught up to him in a place called Nanda Parbat."

Sirius breathed in sharply. "The League of Assassins," he whispered.

"I took my vengeance on Dolohov," Harry said. "At the time, I still considered Remus a friend, having not had the time to sort through my memories and recognize what his absence from my life meant, and Dolohov had killed him, together with Bellatrix depriving my godson of his parents. Ra's al Ghul offered me a place in the League. My gift has always been death, Sirius. My parents, you, Dumbledore, and finally, Remus and Tonks. So, I became Al Anqua, the Phoenix, and I spent nearly twenty years as the right hand of the Demon. Finally, I had the chance to become Ra's al Ghul myself and I took it, completing my ascension in the traditions of every Ra's before me. Once that was done, I prepared for the ritual I had found in the libraries of Nanda Parbat during my time there. It was a mad plan, but after twenty years, there was no turning back."

"What was the cost?" Sirius asked.

"The ritual supercharged the ley lines across the world, starting with the one under Hogwarts itself," Harry replied. "Suffice to say… the world did not survive. I regret it, but it had to be done, and it won't happen in this timeline, so I don't see the need to weep over those who will not die this time around, while those who will deserve it for their corruption."

Sirius sighed. "I swore when I became your godfather that I would protect you, that I would guide you, and that I would support you no matter what," Sirius told him. "I can't deny what you say is true. Both the Light and the Dark contribute to the corruption of our world. It has to stop."

"I'm glad that you feel that way," Harry said. "We're about to have company." In an instant, he was on his feet, taking on the guise of The Phoenix once more. Sirius stood as well, a wand snapping into his hand. "**Judging by the spells they're using, Ministry Aurors. Depending who they are, they'll get Stunned and Obliviated… or killed.**" Sirius felt a chill go down his spine (in part because of the dark, malevolent tones the Modulation Charm gave his godson's voice), but knew just from speaking to Harry that while his godson still saw him as family, the boy he had been last year was gone forever; in his place was a hardened war veteran and ruthless assassin who had destroyed billions in order to give himself a chance to come back to this time, with the sole purpose of removing the corruption by killing those he knew to be responsible. The oath of a godparent was no laughing matter in the wizarding world as some would see it in the Muggle world; magic itself enforced the oath. Sirius would stand by his godson and (if he were being honest) a part of him felt relieved he wouldn't have to pretend to like the bullshit that went on in British wizarding society.

It was a unit of four Aurors that arrived on the scene, rather than a single Auror, which meant this was more than just the Aurors investigating a tip of some kind. No, they had been directed here, and there was only one person who knew that someone high on the wanted list was here. The Phoenix growled low in his throat. The Aurors that had come here were John Dawlish, Gawain Robards, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks. Tonks, he would leave alone because he had a soft spot for the young witch due to her being the mother of his godson in another lifetime. But the other three… two were lackeys of Fudge and the last was a Dumbledore loyalist. Dumbledore had been the one to tip them off, The Phoenix was sure. Only right that he would lose one of his supporters. The vigilante doubted that Shacklebolt had simply been recruited into the Order out of happenstance. Dumbledore didn't work like that, he never had; he always cultivated relationships with those he wanted to mold or to bring into his Order.

The Aurors had only a moment to spot not only the quarry they had come for, Sirius Black, but also the serial killer who had killed Bartemius Crouch Sr. and Severus Snape: The Phoenix. The next moment, they were facing a fight they were ill-prepared for as The Phoenix appeared in their midst in a flash of flame. The Phoenix delivered a crippling blow to Robards' larynx, crushing it. The Auror collapsed to his knees even as the Phoenix turned and sent a wandless Banishing Charm into the stomach of Nymphadora Tonks. The woman was catapulted backwards, and the Phoenix felt more than saw Sirius send a Stunner in her direction, taking her out of the fight.

The Phoenix pulled his new goblin-forged short blade, imbued with basilisk venom, out of where it was sheathed and slashed Dawlish across the throat. Blood spurted from the wound as the man's body collapsed, leaving only Dumbledore's loyalist standing. The Phoenix vaulted over the spell Kingsley fired at him, landing behind the Auror and delivering a shattering kick to the back of the man's knee. The man cried out in pain as his leg bent beneath him, and a moment later, as he raised his wand to summon reinforcements with a Patronus, his wand (and the hand holding it) was cleaved from his body by a gleaming blade like those he had seen displayed in shops down Knockturn Alley. His trainee, Tonks, had called them Tai Chi blades.

The Phoenix stepped around him and placed the blade beneath his chin, raising his head up so he could stare into his eyes. "**Who sent you? Answer and I may yet grant you a quick death. The basilisk poison that my blades are coated with is diluted. It will take far longer to kill you.**"

Aurors were not Hit-Wizards. They were not trained to withstand extreme amounts of pain or torture. They only did so if something they truly valued, like those they loved, was on the line. "Albus Dumbledore told us a fugitive was hiding here," He bit out.

"**Thank you, Mr. Shacklebolt,**" The Phoenix replied. "**Let it not be said that I am without honor.**" The Phoenix decapitated Shacklebolt before turning to Sirius. "**I assume you can handle Obliviating Nymphadora there?**" Sirius nodded sharply. While he did that, The Phoenix removed his cowl and returned to being Harry Potter. He looked out at the castle with a look of cold fury in his eyes.

"Harry, it's done," Sirius said, as he came to stand by him. "I'll send Buckbeak to fly off, I guess. Why did Dumbledore do this?"

"He probably suspects you're the Phoenix," Harry said with a shrug. "So far, the victims have been connected to you. Not exactly what I meant to happen, but this move by Dumbledore cannot be allowed to just be ignored."

"Crouch and Snape would point in my direction," Sirius agreed with a sigh. "But what are you going to do to Dumbledore? Kill him?"

"No," Harry said, his tone chilling for the older man. "Death would be a release from this life, and his sentence has yet to be carried out. I am going to take everything he cares about away from him; destroy those who choose to follow him; corrupt those he hopes will guide the future. Once he has lost everything and everyone he values, I will deprive him of that which he desires most of all."

_***HPDC***_

Ra's al Ghul stood on the balcony attached to his suite of rooms, the distant screams of Al Sa-Her as he was punished for his failures in England serving as a symphony for his thoughts as he mulled the message that Al Anqua had sent back to Nanda Parbat with Al Sa-Her over in his mind. If Al Anqua had been surprised at the appearance of members of the League in England, he hadn't shown it in his quick and decisive action. The threat towards his Heir was a surprise; it implied that Al Anqua believed Ra's intended to kill him for his 'rogue actions', meaning Al Anqua didn't know what the ring he bore meant.

Still, the threat was a clever one. The Lazarus Pit was losing its potency when regenerating him and had been since an agent of H.I.V.E. had corrupted the waters. Nyssa was his third attempt at siring an Heir; his first had been a boy-child, but it had been a monstrosity, an albino with hideous bone-white skin and pink-tinted eyes. Talia, his second child, had shown promise for a time before he realized that she took too much after her one-time mentor (and one of his former Horsemen), Taer Al-Sahfer, or Sara Lance, a time traveler. She did not understand that a woman could not lead the League of Assassins; her only use was in using her feminine wiles to lure in a worthy successor. Once she had realized that was her path, Talia had rebelled and fled from Nanda Parbat.

A monstrosity and two girls. That was what he had sired thus far, and Ra's had no desire to try again in the hopes of finally siring a boy-child without deformities. Since Al Anqua was untouchable by their laws by virtue of the ring he wore, Ra's had chosen to use Al Sa-Her as an outlet for his frustrations at the subtle reminder of his counterpart that his loins were cursed in some fashion. It helped that the Magician often needed a lesson in humility and Ra's made a mental note to assign someone to silently watch his current Horseman when he released the man from his service. Like Sara Lance, Malcolm Merlyn was not truly one of them, and even if he swore to abide by the code of conduct, the man had a grandiose sense of self-worth. Ra's would take pleasure in reminding the man of his own mortality a few more times before _finally_ releasing him from his vows.

**_A/N: Yes, that final speech of Harry's was fully influenced by Slade Wilson's speech in Arrow 2x09 because DAMN, that speech sends chills up my spine even today! Ah, when "Arrow" was well-written, it's villains three-dimensional, and its heroes worthy of the title…_**

**_Hope everyone enjoyed the scene with Ra's. That was written this morning as a result of a comment from DZ2 who was curious as to what Ra's would make of that message Harry sent. _**


	12. Yule

Chapter 12:

Yule

"So, what have you got there?" Sirius asked Harry as he finished a workout session, seeing his godson fingering an object that looked familiar at the desk. Harry had smuggled Sirius into Hogwarts and his multi-compartment trunk after the incident with the Aurors. They had waited for Dumbledore to leave Hogwarts, watching through the Marauders' Map, and then it had been a pretty simple matter. Thanks to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Dumbledore had been forced to keep the wards at the minimum, and he couldn't even set an anti-Animagus ward since McGonagall was an Animagus and was teaching top N.E.W.T. students interested in becoming such the beginning stages of the transformation.

"This, Sirius, is a time turner," Harry said. "Eventually, people will get suspicious about the fact that Harry Potter is nowhere to be found when the Phoenix strikes. Some will still think it's you, but the more intuitive will start looking in my direction. This little beauty will help dissuade that line of thought and provide a new person for the Ministry and Dumbledore to focus their attentions on. It will also begin Dumbledore's downfall."

"How?" Sirius said, pulling up a chair.

"The Yule Ball," Harry said with a shrug. "Yet another gathering that will be open to the well-to-do and the public. The Phoenix will be making an appearance in his civilian identity and speak with a few people, not that most will realize he is the Phoenix. Then another of the gifts I have will be used to… cast doubt on Dumbledore's true nature. Sometimes, being from the future has great advantages. At the same time, Harry Potter will be on the dance floor with his date for the Yule Ball."

"And who is the lucky girl?" leered Sirius.

"Daphne Greengrass," Harry said simply. "It's a Slytherin thing. Apparently, it's a point of pride for the entire House that I am the sole Hogwarts champion, so they decided that I needed the perfect date and apparently it doesn't get more perfect than Greengrass." Harry sighed.

"And how about Peverell?" Sirius asked. "That's the name you're going with, right?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "Ares Peverell."

"Nice work using the name of the god of war," Sirius chuckled.

"Ironic, considering I'm ensuring that the major war from the last timeline never happens," Harry said with a shrug. "Ares Peverell will be accompanied by Penelope Clearwater, who is glad to have the attention of a mysterious pureblood with an ancient name since her boyfriend dumped her to elevate himself in the Ministry of Magic." Harry frowned. "You know, I haven't heard much about Percy lately. Usually he would be the one handling things, but Fudge is due to be there again."

"Maybe Ares Peverell, a potential wealthy backer of the current administration, can get the information before your demonstration?" Sirius asked.

"Maybe," Harry replied with a shrug. "While Dumbledore will strongly suspect Ares Peverell to be the Phoenix by the end of the night, the Ministry will see only a resurging new pureblood line and will court it accordingly. The goblins didn't mind a bit of subterfuge, since I am a Peverell by blood and screwing over wizarding society tickles their funny bone."

"Only you, Harry, could come back in time from when you were a master of assassins and somehow become allies with the goblin nation," Sirius said, shaking his head. "By the way, what's with your studies into aging potions?" Sirius cast a hand in the direction of said books.

"Because after I take my O.W.L.s, Harry Potter is going to disappear," Harry said. "But I want to find a permanent solution to my age issue, so I don't have to keep taking swigs. Those potions are disgusting."

"Why do you want to do that?" Sirius asked with raised eyebrows. "I'd love to go back and relive my Hogwarts years, make some different choices." Sirius' expression darkened. "Like finding a way to get Pettigrew down the tunnel with Remus instead of Snape."

"Yeah, it's not all it's cracked up to be, Sirius," Harry sighed. "I was prepared for everything, until I found the one thing I wasn't: hormones."

Sirius stared at Harry for a moment, and then collapsed onto his back, laughing like a maniac. "H-hormones?" he asked around deep laughs. "Y-you're telling m-me that b-big bad Ra's al Ghul is b-b-being taken down by-by hormones?"

"It isn't funny!" Harry growled out, but there was a bit of humor in his eye.

"It is," Sirius said, finally calming down. He looked at Harry, muttered, "Hormones," and started snickering again.

"Juvenile delinquent," Harry scoffed at him.

"And proud of it!"

**_*HPDC*_**

The man that would be known to the world as Ares Peverell entered Gringotts Bank, looking every bit the part of the affluent pureblood lord. He approached the teller and showed the Dragon's Claw ring to the teller, who simply nodded and gestured to one of the goblins waiting to escort clients about. "The director's office," the teller told the gopher-goblin, as Ares mentally called them. When he had first come to Gringotts in this form, he noted the reaction of the goblins to the Dragon's Claw. He had been told that the next time he came in, he merely had to show the ring, much in the way lords of ancient houses did to gain access to their vaults rather than use keys.

The gopher-goblin escorted Ares to the Director's office and left him in the antechamber to be summoned. Ares took the time to study his surroundings, something he hadn't been able to do on his previous visit. It was a rather spartan room, with only three decorations: a pair of goblin armor sets, one newer than the other, both having seen battle; and the embossed skull of a dragon, a Hungarian Horntail if Ares was correct.

The door to the Director's office opened, and Ares entered. "Ah, Peverell," the goblin behind the desk said.

"Director Ragnok," Ares acknowledged in return. He knew it amused the goblin that he did not insist on the use of any honorifics for himself but insisted on using the honorific of Director for the head of Gringotts London. Probably because he wasn't the typical wizard. "I apologize for the short notice, but I have an urgent matter I believe you should be aware of." Ragnok gestured for him to sit but did not offer refreshment. This was a business meeting, not a chat between friends. "I've been researching goblin culture, a passing curiosity since you hold the wizarding world's wealth," Ares said. "If I am correct, the goblins have a strong aversion to a specific branch of magicks, those dealing with the soul."

"We do," Ragnok replied. "The soul, or as we know it, the _san'kara_, is the true method by which one attains immortality. Not immortality of the body; such attempts are foolishness. But by joining the energies of our experiences with that of others, we commune with the energies of the universe in a way that transcends time and space." Ragnok tilted his head. "Why do you bring up this magic?"

"Have you heard of a Horcrux?" Ares asked.

"Indeed," Ragnok replied coldly. "Such devices are to be eradicated with prejudice."

"What if I told you a Horcrux had been placed in the vaults below our feet?"

"Who would dare breach the sanctity of these halls with an abomination?" Ragnok asked in return.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Ares replied coolly, leaning backwards. "Her belief in her master's philosophies superseded everything else. You can, of course, check for yourself. You do not have to take my word for it, nor allow me access to the vault. I do not care so long as the Horcrux is destroyed and Voldemort is rendered one step closer to a much-deserved end."

"We will ensure it," Ragnok replied coolly. "Was there anything else?"

"The Dartmoor Manor," Ares said. "I've decided to take up residence there. I will, of course, pay handsomely for the goblins to install defensive wards on the property."

"We will be happy to do so… for the right price," Ragnok replied.

**_*HPDC*_**

Ares entered the Great Hall with his date, Penelope Clearwater, looking around with interest. His story was that he had been born in England, educated at home, and spent a few years traveling the world and learning more about how other nations handled magic before returning to England. The Ministry of Magic had proven rather inept at keeping track of bloodlines, something he had discovered after taking down the Ministry in the previous timeline. Or rather, the Ministry as it stood today. The records of the Ministry after the Second War had, in fact, been rather precise. No doubt that had been Hermione's influence and attention to detail during her time with the Ministry. Nowadays, the Ministry allowed the Goblins to handle keeping track of bloodlines, and the one thing Ares knew about the goblins was that the one thing they loved more than wrangling concessions out of wizards was making fools of those wizards, even if they weren't aware that they were being made into fools.

Ares seated Penelope first and then took a seat himself as they waited for the Champions and their dates to be announced. Ares noted that Cho Chang and her gaggle of girlfriends were looking intently at the door and hid a chuckle. As he had already experienced the Yule Ball as the Harry about to come through the doors, he knew what was about to happen. He had barely managed to hide his incredulity earlier on as Harry; it was so amusing to see these teenagers attempt to be intimidating and choosing moments like the Yule Ball for their power plays.

The champions were announced and conducted the opening dance. As the second number of the evening started, Ares guided Penelope onto the dance floor, while watching Cho Chang and her gang of so-called Ravens move in on Harry, remembering the confrontation himself.

_Daphne Greengrass had agreed to Harry's desire to not do a whole lot of dancing (his confession he wasn't all that skilled at it had earned him a scowl for not informing everyone earlier). Once the opening dance had finished, Harry and Daphne left the dance floor and made their way towards the tables, only to be confronted by Cho Chang and her friends. "Cho," Harry said neutrally. He had wondered how long it would take the students who saw him as guilty of Cedric's death to confront him over it. He couldn't say he was surprised that they had chosen now; the ones approaching him were the type who loved to play to a crowd. Sadly, they were about to find out how much different the world of adults was to the world of a simple-minded teenager._

"_Potter," Cho spat. "We've been meaning to have a word with you."_

"_Yes, I suspected as much," Harry replied. "No doubt you decided to wait until now to have a 'captive audience', as it were. Well, then, go on… I'm very interested in what you have to say," he finished silkily, imitating the way Voldemort spoke at the Battle of Hogwarts and noting Dumbledore's frown as he recognized the method of speech. Harry was going to ruin the old man's plans for everyone, himself most of all, and giving Dumbledore a glimpse of his true nature… well, it just tickled his morbid sense of humor, such as it was._

"_You knew about the dragons before the Task, didn't you?" Cho asked. At Harry's nod, she continued in a rather demanding tone, "Why didn't you warn Cedric about the dragons?"_

"_As I told Krum when he asked," Harry began calmly, "I believed Cedric already knew. Even had I known he didn't, I wouldn't have shared the information. The Tri-Wizard Tournament is meant to determine the traits in the champions and how they used them: resourcefulness, skill in magic and tactics, analysis… I found out while exploring the Forbidden Forest, showing my resourcefulness and unwillingness to be caught unawares. Magical creatures have most often been used in the Tournaments of the past, and the only place to keep such creatures would be in the Forest. I suspect Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum likewise found out along those lines." Here, Harry's expression hardened. "If they found out some other way, Cho, such as their heads informing them, then the fault of Cedric's death doesn't lie with the only person to_ keep _the rules of this Tournament, but with Albus Dumbledore and Pomona Sprout. They are, after all, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and Head of Hufflepuff House, the two individuals most responsible for Cedric's safety. If they knew the other champions had learned of the dragons through their own heads, it fell to_ them_, not_ I_, to inform Cedric. Just as it would have fallen to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall to inform_ me _under the same circumstances."_

_Harry and Daphne had skirted around the shell-shocked form of Cho and her friends, and Harry noted the expressions several of the guests were now aiming at Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Sprout; he smirked inwardly. Who knew being calm and well-spoken would prove more useful than being a 'run headfirst into danger without a damned plan' hothead?_

After the third dance with Penelope, Ares suggested she go speak to Professor Flitwick about finding someone to sponsor her in the Ministry going forward, pointing out that for the time being he was an unknown quantity, but he would be pleased to help her once the Ministry became acclimated to his presence. He wasn't even lying or twisting the truth, there; from what he had been able to tell, Penelope was intelligent, driven, and skilled with both her magic and her vocabulary (not that he would expect anything less than the latter from a Ravenclaw). Ares frowned as he made his way through the crowd towards where the 'well-to-do' types were gathering. Was he attracted to Penelope? Once he found the permanent solution to his age problem, he would be in the right age bracket (he had already decided to stick to 25, as that was reasonable for a young man traveling to return home as, but close to 40 would've pushed credulity for the British wizards), but did he dare make such a move?

Well, it was a matter for another time. He needed to do some elbow-rubbing before the distraction he had 'requested' as Harry Potter kicked in. It had cost him the use of the Map and the Cloak for the night, but he knew that he would need most of the crowd focused on the distraction that he had asked Fred and George for while he started Dumbledore's downfall, courtesy of one of the many perks he had learned regarding his mastery of the Deathly Hallows, a perk he had used to drive his enemies insane before finally destroying them.

Arriving at the edge of the circle, Ares waited to be noticed. "Ah, hello," Cornelius Fudge, looking bored, was the first to spot him. "I don't believe I've seen you at one of these gatherings before."

"That's because I've only recently returned to England, and prior to my departure my family was quite reclusive," Ares replied smoothly. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ares Peverell, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of the same name. You can check that with Gringotts," he added, seeing some raised eyebrows (as he had expected there to be). "I thought it prudent to introduce myself to the current Minister and begin returning to British society."

"A sound idea," Fudge said. "I'm Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister. This is my Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge. If you feel the need to speak to me in an official capacity, she is the one you'll need to contact."

"Of course," Ares replied smoothly before nodding in Umbridge's direction. "M'lady," he said, keeping his tone smooth even though he dearly wanted to use the Killing Curse on the _thing_ in front of him. Umbridge was the worst of the worst, in his opinion, and she had been one of those he had taken great pleasure in killing when he and his assassins had purged Azkaban after the Battle of Hogwarts. To his internal horror, Umbridge _giggled_ and gave him a once-over. He would have to remember to _vomit_ later. "Over there is Director Amelia Bones with Head Auror Scrimgeour and our Chief Hit-Wizard, Albert Runcorn," Fudge gestured to where said individuals were standing. "And finally, these are Lucius Malfoy, Tobias Nott, and Killian Avery," Fudge gestured to the other grouping. "You said you've only recently returned from abroad?"

"Yes, after I finished my education, I decided to go on a grand tour of the world," Ares replied with a shrug. "I know it's a bit of a dated ideal, but my family felt it was something a wizard or witch should do to take in the breadth and scope of not only the magical world, but the Muggle one as well. It probably helped my parents chose to have me taught at home rather than attend Hogwarts; from my understanding, these days Hogwarts students go directly from graduating to finding a career. Quite a bit to thrust on children who have yet to experience the joys and sorrows the world has to offer."

"I must say that I agree with our newcomer," the wizened voice of Albus Dumbledore said as he entered the conversation. "I try to encourage my students to look at the world through more than the lens their families, be they wizarding or Muggle, offer. There is much the world can offer if one is willing to look." Dumbledore took in Ares, a curious twinkle in his eye. "I don't believe I caught your name, young man," he said.

"Ares Peverell," Ares replied, watching Dumbledore carefully and was rewarded with a minute flinch from the older man, a flinch that Malfoy and Nott picked up on and exchanged looks with one another. "You, of course, need no introduction, Headmaster Dumbledore. I daresay your eccentric choice of robes would have made it clear who you are even if you _hadn't_ introduced yourself at the beginning of the ball." Good-hearted chuckles came from the rest of the wizards and witches, and Ares noted a hint of amusement in Dumbledore's eyes for the moment.

"So, if you were home-schooled," Lucius began, "does that mean you haven't taken your O.W.L.'s or N.E.W.T.'s?"

"That is correct," Ares replied. "Something I hope to rectify soon, but for the time being I'm working on finding a place to live and getting a feel for the magical world and what it currently has needs for. I can't help but notice there is a distinct lack in Aurors and Healers here in Britain. That can't be because of the Blood War; that was thirteen years ago."

"A minor hick-up with regards to the last Potions Master of Hogwarts," Fudge replied. "We've already taken steps to rectify it, in part because of this 'Phoenix' character."

"Ah, yes, the serial killer," Ares said with a nod. "I considered not returning to England once I heard about him, in case he decides that such things as family magicks are 'Dark' and need to be dealt with. But I won't let a coward who hides behind a mask and a tendency towards theatricality drive me from my home."

"Well said," Lucius said, raising a glass. "To not giving in to cowards." The remainder drunk to the toast.

"Well, as I said, we're working on fixing our issues with Aurors and Healers," Fudge said. "But a man with a name so important to our history should focus his attentions elsewhere. Our legal branches, such as the Wizengamot, for example. I do believe your family has a seat on there."

"Perhaps," Ares replied with a shrug. "I would have to get a better grasp of the political landscape before I made such a choice." He watched as Dumbledore headed off to speak with one of his friends: Dedalus Diggle, if Ares remembered right. No doubt wanting to reminisce about the trip that he wasn't able to go on now that Ares had planted the seed. Now all he needed to do was wait for the promised distraction, knowing from his own experience with Dedalus Diggle that the man was easily distracted.

A few minutes later, the fireworks that would one day become a mainstay of Weasley Wizard Wheezes (and one of their few inventions Fred and George had perfected so far) erupted in the Great Hall, at first causing panic and then amusement from the crowd as they realized some of Hogwarts' more 'colorful' students had decided to contribute to the festivities. McGonagall was already looking for Fred and George, as per usual, and Dedalus Diggle was enjoying the show. Dumbledore had stepped back to observe his students and the visitors enjoying a little taste of Hogwarts' colorful nature. This was the moment Ares had waited for.

Albus Dumbledore's attention was torn from the celebrating and amused crowd from the three schools as he heard his name whispered. "Albus." He turned in the direction of the voice and felt his hands tremble despite himself. There, standing in front of him, was his sister, Ariana, who had died during the ill-fated duel between Albus, his brother Aberforth, and his then-lover Gellert Grindelwald.

"Ariana," he choked out.

"Why did I have to die, Albus?" Ariana asked. "You didn't need to kill me. I would've accepted you and Gellert. I would've followed you."

"I-I didn't-" Albus stuttered out.

"You did," Ariana said. "All three of your curses struck me, Albus. Gellert's broke my legs. Aberforth broke my ribs, and they cut up my lungs. You sent me to the grave with your cutting curse."

"A-Ariana," Albus began again, but she faded from view. Albus reached out, as though to touch where she had stood only moments ago, before turning and observing the crowd.

They were all enjoying the fireworks the Weasley Twins had sent up and laughing at the scolding said boys were being given by Professor McGonagall. Albus shifted his gaze to the members of high society and noticed the newcomer as Ares Peverell met his gaze. Ares raised a glass to him and smiled; to the rest of the party it probably looked like a man giving Albus a 'well done' compliment without speaking. But to Albus, the truth was now very plain to see… Ares Peverell was The Phoenix.

Albus' wand cleared his sleeve before anyone nearby could see the thunderous expression on the Headmaster's face, but they all felt it as his magic built up, forming an oppressive feeling throughout the hall as the amusement and hilarity died, replaced with trepidation and fear. Albus unleashed a powerful stunner in the direction of Ares Peverell, who used a silver _Aegis_ shield, the same kind Voldemort had used in the past, to absorb the spell.

"You," Dumbledore fumed. "You dare use my sister's memory against me, _Phoenix_?"


	13. Interrogation

**_A/N: For those wondering, Albus has been knocked off kilter by the visitation by Ariana. That is why he is acting the way he is instead of being calculating like one would expect._**

Chapter 13:

Interrogation

"Phoenix?" Ares asked, lowering his wand slightly, but keeping his shield up. "You think _I'm_ this serial killer you've been unable to find? What evidence do you have, Mr. Dumbledore?" The lack of an honorific caused some raised eyebrows, but for those who had been talking with Ares to this point, they took it as being because he had not attended Hogwarts and therefore not been 'indoctrinated' into thinking Dumbledore was the wisest and most powerful wizard in Britain. "I assume you have _convincing_ evidence?"

Albus paused for a moment as he realized that the evidence he had, Ariana's appearance, would cast a dark shadow upon his reputation, a shadow his political enemies would stretch as far as they could see. But was letting someone like The Phoenix go free worth keeping his reputation? Perhaps at one time, he might've thought otherwise, but if he allowed the serial killer to continue when he could stop him, then he was no better than any Dark Wizard he had fought against. "Yes, I do," he said firmly.

"Well, then," Ares said, dropping the shield and holding his wand, handle first, out in the direction of Madam Amelia Bones, who came forward cautiously and took it. "I look forward to seeing what evidence you provide. If it is convincing enough for Madam Bones and Minister Fudge, I will submit to questioning under Veritaserum. Hell, I might do it anyways. My father warned me about you, Mr. Dumbledore, before he died. He told me you were someone willing to send an innocent to hell if you needed to, for your 'greater good'."

"If you are referring to Sirius Black-" Dumbledore began.

"No," Ares replied. "I'm referring to Tom Riddle." The hall had been silent before now, but now whispers of confusion (for the most part) could be heard. Who was Tom Riddle? "How many times did he come to you, begging to stay here at Hogwarts, a practice that was still in effect during Dippet's term in office, only for you to say no while approving others? How much of his anger towards Muggles, towards those who were 'aligned with the Light', or rather who had a close relationship with _you_, stemmed from what you did all those years ago?"

Albus' eyes narrowed. The way Ares spoke, the way he moved and acted, was all too familiar. "I suppose your father told you all of this," Albus said quietly, though it was heard by everyone. "Perhaps sometime in the months before he met his end in Godric's Hollow?"

Ares let out a laugh full of cynicism. "Oh, my," he said. "So, which am I, Albus? The son of Lord Voldemort, back to seek vengeance on those who wronged him, or The Phoenix, a serial killer whose stated goal, as printed in the _Daily Prophet_, is to eradicate the 'corruption' that festers in both the Light and the Dark? How do you still have _any_ power, spouting off such fantasies?" Ares turned to Fudge and Madam Bones. "Now, I must _demand_ a questioning under Veritaserum," he told them. "If only to prove to all those assembled here that I am neither the Phoenix nor the son of a deceased madman. Why not conduct it here? We have the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Minister of Magic, the Head of the D.M.L.E. and her two lieutenants here. That should be enough to sign off on the use of Veritaserum."

"Very well," Amelia said tiredly before looking to Albus. In her thoughts, she wondered if perhaps Dumbledore's age was getting to him. "I believe Professor Slughorn still brews Veritaserum, yes?"

Dumbledore nodded and gestured to Slughorn, who left the Great Hall. Ares took a seat, guarded by Scrimgeour and Runcorn, looking completely relaxed. In truth, he was engaging in a technique that the League taught its members in case they returned to their previous lives (usually by performing a great service to Ra's al Ghul). They compartmentalized their identities, and Ares had merely refined that. One part of his mind was Harry Potter, the Hogwarts student; one part was The Phoenix, a ruthless vigilante; and then there was the part that was Ares Peverell. Ares focused on bolstering the part of his mind that was Ares, ensuring that _that_ would be the dominant 'personality' when he was questioned.

Slughorn returned with the vial, and Madam Bones administered the potion to Ares. She had asked Dumbledore to write down questions that would help prove his case and was now ready to question Ares.

"What is your name?"

"Ares Peverell."

"Are you the son of Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort?"

"No."

"Are you the serial killer known as The Phoenix?"

"No."

"Where did you learn the Aegis shield, which has only been used by You-Know-Who, as he was commonly known?"

"It is a Peverell family magic."

"How did Tom Riddle learn it?"

"Because he was a distant member of the family through the Gaunt family. Family magic doesn't recognize alignment, only blood." Seeing as this was a common truth, Amelia gave the antidote.

"My apologies, Lord Peverell," she said formally.

"It is not _your_ fault, Madam Bones," Ares replied with a shrug. "However, I believe I will take my leave of Hogwarts for the time being. I can say that suddenly, that Wizengamot seat is looking rather _inviting_." Here, Ares shot a lethal glare in the direction of the Headmaster. "Oh, before I go, I am curious about one thing," Ares said. "My date for the night has been curious as to the whereabouts of her former boyfriend, Percival Weasley. If you could indulge me this favor, considering I submitted to an interrogation because of the delusions of an old man trying to live off past glories?"

"Mr. Weasley was sent to speak with a man we believed to have information on The Phoenix," Fudge said before anyone else could speak up, no doubt trying to curry favor with Ares after what he would see only as a 'debacle'. "Ra's al Ghul."

Ares decided to toy further with Albus, who he knew would see him as the Phoenix even if the Veritaserum cleared him. "Ra's al Ghul…" he mused aloud. "You contacted him before sending Mr. Weasley, I trust?"

"No," Fudge said, pulling off his bowler hat and fiddling with it. "We felt the urgency of the situation would be obvious to Mr. Al Ghul."

"Then Mr. Weasley is dead," Ares replied with a sigh. "Pity. From what Penelope has told me, he was quite a brilliant wizard. I do hope he didn't use the phrase 'Mr. al Ghul' when speaking to the man."

"Why is that?" Albus asked, eyeing the man he _knew_ to be The Phoenix shrewdly.

"Because Ra's al Ghul is a title in and of itself," Ares told the older wizard. "Something that can be found in the third edition of _Ancient Societies of the One World_. I do believe there is a copy here in Hogwarts, is there not?"

"There is," Dumbledore nodded, "but it was placed in the Headmaster's library due to complaints from _certain parties_."

"Ah," Ares replied. "Well, perhaps it would be good to restore it so there won't be further _issues_ that lead to the deaths of such brilliant wizards as young Mr. Weasley?"

"Agreed," Amelia Bones said, giving Dumbledore a hard look. She knew for a fact that the man read every book in the Headmaster's library. Why hadn't he informed them of this aspect of the League of Assassins and its leader?

"Well, I must bid you a good night," Ares said. Penelope came up beside him. "I'm sorry we have to cut our visit short, Miss Clearwater," he told her. "If you would prefer to stay…"

"No, I've had my fill for the evening," she said brightly, but he could hear the tension in her voice.

"Very well," Ares replied. He gave a nod to the staff and upper crust attendees, waved to the students, and left the room.

**_*HPDC*_**

An hour or so later, on his way back from the Room of Requirement, where his younger self had gone back to play the role of Ares, Harry Potter found himself 'accosted' by a pair of miscreants otherwise known as the Weasley twins. "Hello, there, boys," he said with an amused grin. "Good show tonight."

"Yes, it was," Fred said lightly.

"But the fireworks were really the opening act, weren't they?" George added.

"Indeed, brother," Fred said. "The real meat of the show was the showdown between our beloved Headmaster…"

"And the mysterious new arrival," George finished. "Now, considering the accusations and the last time we heard the name Tom Riddle…"

"From our dear little sister who was victimized by said bastard," Fred butted in, a vicious look in his eye, "we wanted to make sure. Now, what do you think we found, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A Harry Potter standing by Daphne Greengrass," he said quietly, throwing up a silent _Muffliato_ charm, "and a Harry Potter where Ares Peverell was."

"By George, I think he's got it!" Fred said, ducking the attempted head-slap from his irate twin, who utterly _despised_ that punchline (which was why Fred used it when he could).

"But the real question, Harry," George said, looking serious for once, "is _why_. Especially with how _Ares_ was acting."

Harry eyed the two. Initially, he had thought Fred and George would have both aligned with the Ministry after the war had Fred survived. But a part of him wondered if perhaps he was wrong. If he wasn't… he could always Obliviate them. "Follow me under the Cloak," he finally said. "And _please_ don't screw over my place in Slytherin House by planting pranks."

"Us?" George asked innocently.

"We would never!" Fred added vehemently, and if Harry didn't know these two so well, he might think they were truly offended; they were very good actors when they wanted to be, he realized. Almost _sociopathic_, in fact. A thought started niggling at the back of his mind, but he pushed it down for now. He waited as the two negotiated their way under the Invisibility Cloak and then headed for the Slytherin Common Room… and hoped the Twins could keep from indulging in their playful nature just this once.

Aside from a moment where Montague tripped and landed on Pansy Parkinson in a rather _awkward_ position which most attributed to Montague's deviance than anything else, there was nothing off as Harry made his way to his room in the Slytherin dorms and opened his trunk. He gestured the invisible duo into it and watched as they pulled off the Cloak and entered the trunk before following them himself.

"So, what's with the dog, Harry?" Fred asked, nodding in the direction of Sirius, who was in front of the fireplace in his Animagus form. Harry rolled his eyes at the sight; his godfather had serious issues with how much he enjoyed spending time in animal form.

"Later," Harry replied. "I've got a question for you boys, and it's not one you can joke your way out of. You don't give me a serious answer, and I will erase your memories. No second chance." The dog looked over and rose up on its paws, hackles rising as it bared its teeth at the two.

"Yeah, mate," George said uneasily, eyeing the dog that looked like a Grim.

"We got you," Fred added.

"Hypothetical scenario," Harry replied. "The Dark Side, whether under Voldemort or some other fanatic, rises to complete power for a year. Lots of people die. After the war is over, the Light and the Dark don't want any further conflict, so they decide to compromise. Among these compromises is a bill that would lead magical Britain to kidnap magical children from Muggles and replace them with Squibs, or simply Obliviate the knowledge of their child. The Muggleborns are then blood-adopted into families. Would you agree with this sort of measure?"

"No," Fred said immediately. "Family is family. Sure, some families aren't connected by blood. But there's a connection there, a connection that keeps them from harming their children unless they're crazy or inbred. The Squibs wouldn't have that with the Muggles they were given to, and those Muggles who didn't get a Squib replacement wouldn't even have that solace. Even Obliviated, they might feel the ache of having lost a child."

"I almost see the point," George said with a sigh, "but like Fred said, family's family."

"And what if your family chose to support this?" Harry asked. "What if one of you had died during the War? How would the other handle it?"

"Well, I can't say I'd be surprised if our family did," Fred said. "Dad might not be too happy about it, but Mum's always had more prejudices, and everyone knows who really runs the family. Its why we don't listen to her all that much."

"You listen to her?" Harry asked disbelievingly. Sirius started giving a hacking bark that was suspiciously like laughter, and Harry shot him an annoyed look.

"Eh, if only to get ideas from her rants," George said jovially. His smile dropped as he said, "Truth is, Harry, we don't really fit in with our family. Bill, Charlie, Percy… they all took on very serious careers. Ron, well, if he applied himself, he'd be right up there with them. Ginny… we love her, but Mum has ruined her, tried to make her into what she wished she had been years ago."

"We know something's not right with us," Fred said. "We don't care if one of our jokes goes too far. It's a good laugh to us."

Harry was silent for a moment. In a way he had considered the possibility of the twins being like he himself was, but now he had confirmation that that was the case. "Tell me," he said quietly, "if you knew something like what I described was going to happen, but you could stop it, would you take any action you felt was necessary? Even if it meant committing a horrible act?"

"Yeah," Fred said. His eyes narrowed. "Those questions you asked… they weren't hypothetical, were they?"

"No, Fred," Harry said tiredly. "Twenty-five years from now, I performed a ritual to send my consciousness back in time to this past summer. That is why I seem to have changed, because I'm no longer the Harry Potter who was here last year. I've seen Voldemort's return, seen friends and family die while the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore did _nothing,_ preferring to maintain the status quo, and saw corruption take hold in the Light and Dark after the war with that _compromise_."

"Which of us died?" George asked suddenly.

"Fred," Harry sighed. "It broke you, George, and you went along with the law with the rest of your family."

"What did you do, Harry?" Fred asked.

"I hunted down the remaining Death Eaters and their sympathizers, killing them as I found them," Harry replied. "Dolohov killed you, Fred, as well as Remus Lupin. I tracked him down in Nanda Parbat, where I was offered a place in the League of Assassins. It took me two decades, but I became Ra's al Ghul, the master of the League of Assassins, and I enacted the ritual to return and stop the corruption before it can take hold."

"The Phoenix," George realized.

"Correct," Harry replied. "I can tell you what it is that you feel is wrong with you, George, Fred. You take a sense of satisfaction, perhaps even joy, in the suffering of others. You target those who beat down others' sense of self-worth, who attain 'power' by attacking the powerless. In your minds, you are getting justice, while some might call it vengeance. But a part of you feels shame and horror at your willingness to go to such lengths, so you hide from it behind the masks of jokesters." Harry tilted his head slightly. "What if I told you I can offer you a path, a path that would allow you to do this while giving you freedom from your darker natures?"

Fred and George looked at each other. The way Harry spoke to them wasn't like the boy they had known, the boy who had been Ron's best friend. This was the voice of a man who had grown weary of fighting, who had fought his own darkness and found a way to control it. If he could do that for himself, as evidenced by the difference between Harry the Slytherin and Ares Peverell, then maybe he could help them do the same. That was worth a lot, as far as they were concerned. As one, they drew their wands. The dog made to move forward, but Harry held up his hand, stopping him as he studied the two.

"I, Frederick Gideon Weasley, swear on my life and magic to follow the teachings of Harry James Potter and to keep his secrets, until such a time as he releases me from my oath," Fred intoned, George doing the same beside him (using George Fabian Weasley where needed).

"I, Harry James Potter, accept the vows of Frederick Gideon Weasley and George Fabian Weasley, and swear in return to shelter and guide them on their new paths, until such a time as I release them from their vows," Harry returned in the same formal matter. A blinding flash of magic swept through the room inside the trunk as the magic of Harry, Fred, and George was tied together by the oath.

Harry conjured four seats and the three humans sat. "The first secret I have to reveal is the identity of the 'dog'," Harry said with a smirk. "Padfoot, you can transform now. The Weasley twins are fans of yours." Fred and George gaped at Harry, open-mouthed, as Sirius transformed to his human self and took a seat, grinning at the two wide-eyed Gryffindors. "Fred, George, my godfather Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot in his group of friends. Sirius, Fred and George were the ones who gave me the map."

"Sounds like they're taking over the role of the Marauders," Sirius said with a bark-like laugh. "That back and forth they did reminded me of Prongs and I back in the day. Drove Moony mad when we did it during exams."

"Who were the others?" Fred asked.

"Prongs was my father," Harry said, "and Moony was Professor Lupin. As for the last of them…" here, Harry's eyes darkened. "I let him go once. Next time, Wormtail _dies!_"

"Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail," Sirius told the confused twins. "He betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort and framed me for the deaths of 13 people, himself included. He was hiding with your family as a pet rat."

"Scabbers!" Fred and George asked, recoiling in disgust.

"Indeed," Harry replied. "Now, the process by which you can control your darkness will take a lot of meditation and time. For now, though, I will tell you this: there is no combating the darkness or purging it completely from you. Every person, no matter how good or evil, has a bit of light and dark in them and which side ultimately appears to be in control is down to what occurs in their life. What you have to do is create a new identity for the darkness, give it a name. Only then can you be Fred and George in your normal lives, while channeling your desire to bring justice into the darkness and its new identity." Harry tilted his head and looked to his godfather, who was looking intrigued. "Sirius, why don't you help Fred and George discover their Animagus forms? That might give them an idea."

"How could-" Sirius began, but stopped as Harry morphed in front of their eyes and became a jet-black phoenix, with a white lightning bolt scar between its wings and emerald green eyes. "How…" Sirius asked.

Harry returned to his human form. "I didn't get the Time Turner _just_ so I could be places as both Harry Potter and Ares Peverell," Harry said with a shrug. "It cut down on my studies as an Animagus. Now that I've solved the transportation issue, I can deal with something much quicker than I thought it would take. I have to say I'm glad my form wasn't a fish or something… Sirius, get on with helping them. I have an old _friend_ to visit…"

Harry once more transformed into his Animagus form and vanished in a flash of fire. Sirius turned to Fred and George. "So," he asked with a grin, "who wants to go first?"

**_A/N: Well, hope everyone enjoyed this one. I amended Talia's speech from "Arrow" slightly to use the term 'darkness' rather than 'monster' as I feel that is part of the melodrama special that took the place of "Arrow" once Marc Guggenheim became the main showrunner._**

**_For those wondering about this twist with the Weasley twins, I would submit to you the incident in Book 5 where they pushed Montague, I believe it was, into the Vanishing Cabinet and purported to not give a damn what happened to him or where he went. The experimentation on other students with their unfinished products was likewise a sign that there's something not quite right with them, but because the books are colored from Harry's perspective and they're usually two of his biggest supporters… *shrugs* _**


	14. The Dragon's Head

**_A/N: And now, the chapter I'm sure many have been waiting for. Sorry for the delay. Overslept and then I watched the Titans S2 premiere. Overall enjoyable, but its so jarring to see Slade Wilson pop up on screen without that familiar theme…_**

Chapter 14:

The Dragon's Head

Harry arrived in the Shrieking Shack a moment after leaving Sirius and the Twins. Transforming back into his teenage form, Harry pulled out a flask of Ageing Potion and took a draught of it. Once he had aged up, he performed a few minor cosmetic spells and he was once more Ares Peverell. Finally, he performed the Switching Spell that wreathed him in the uniform of the Phoenix. He looked down at the ring on his finger. "**Now, it's time to find out what Ra's al Ghul knows about you,**" he said quietly and flamed away. One of the great perks of his Animagus ability was that he could flame even in human form, which he was certain to use for his hard-to-get targets. Even if there was a ward against Phoenix Flame (which there wasn't) the only person who had a Phoenix was Albus Dumbledore and his principles wouldn't allow him to use Fawkes in that way (if Fawkes would even agree to it).

The Phoenix arrived at the edge of the wards to Nanda Parbat and cast a Message Patronus. Giving it the message he wanted delivered, The Phoenix sank into a meditative state to await his guide. He would not make the same mistake as Percy Weasley had.

In the court of Ra's al Ghul, the Demon's Head himself was practicing against the latest round of rejects from their ranks, his daughter Nyssa watching him and his Horseman, Al Sa-Her, keeping an eye on the man who had been responsible for training the rejects. The fighting paused, however, when a brilliant silver image, that of a demonic looking horse with wings, entered. "**Ra's al Ghul,**" a voice emanated from the image. "**I am the one known as The Phoenix. While I intended to wait until July, my curiosity over this ring gave me the incentive needed to find a way to meet sooner. I am at the edge of the wards to your seat of power, and I will wait here for a guide.**" The image dissipated, leaving a court which focused their attention on the Demon's Head.

Ra's turned to his Horseman. "You have met the Phoenix," he said. "Go and ensure this is the man. If it is, bring him here so we can speak. If it is not… kill him and bring his body here to be disposed of." Al Sa-Her bowed to Ra's and left the chamber even as Ra's re-engaged with the rejects, killing three of them before they knew the bout was back on. Ra's fought with a renewed vigor due to the coming meeting. If what he thought to be true was right, then this man would be his most powerful ally in the war to balance the world.

Ra's had long since finished dealing with the rejected students and lecturing his daughter Nyssa on the importance of ensuring weakness was not allowed into the League when Al Sa-Her returned with the man known as Al Anqua. Ra's studied the man as he approached and knelt before Ra's, showing respect despite possibly being his equal. That confirmed for Ra's that Al Anqua knew nothing of his true calling. That would have to be remedied. "Rise," Ra's said. "You have been busy in magical Britain, my friend."

Al Anqua tilted his head to the side curiously at the appellation and even Al Sa-Her seemed to emanate surprise at the term. "**The wizarding world as a whole has been left to fester,**" Al Anqua replied. "**The choices are simple: destroy the entire society as an example to the rest or cut out the corruption. I've already seen what happens with the former. The latter deserves an attempt, and if not… I'm not above using the former.**"

"Interesting wording," Ra's mused to himself. "Remove your cowl."

Al Anqua did so, and Ra's studied the man before him. "What is your public identity?" he asked.

"Which one?" the young man asked, lips quirking up slightly.

"All of them," Ra's said.

"Ares Peverell is the identity of this form," the man said, gesturing to himself. He removed a bottle from his belt and held it up. "De-aging Potion," he said, causing Ra's' eyebrows to rise. The man took it and cast a few wandless spells as he de-aged, leaving a young boy around 14 with green eyes that told of a life of pain.

Al Sa-Her, watching from beside Ra's, gasped. "Harry Potter?" he said. "How? You're just a boy!"

"Al Sa-Her," Harry replied. "Do I really have to give a man who is called _the Magician_ a lecture on the usefulness of such tools as theatricality and deception?" Nyssa, standing beside her father, couldn't help the small giggle that passed through her, but she straightened out her expression.

Ra's eyed his Horseman. "So, you had an encounter with Al Anqua in this form, Al Sa-Her?" he asked.

"I did," Al Sa-Her replied. "Now that I think about it… it was rather curious he chose _me_ to approach out of all those sent to find him."

"Why did you choose Al Sa-Her?" asked Ra's of the young man, who had taken an Ageing Potion again and become his second self, Ares Peverell.

"He was the only non-magical in the bunch," Ares replied with a shrug. "The others might have detected my tracking charm if I tried it on them, but he had no such defense."

"When you shook my hand," Al Sa-Her said, shaking his head at Ares' confirming nod. "But why the deception with the Ageing Potion? Why have three identities?"

"Harry Potter is required to be at Hogwarts this year," Ares replied. "Binding magical contract. Ares Peverell can handle certain aspects of the world that Harry cannot without looking suspicious. The Phoenix provides swift and brutal justice for those who escape the law due to connections, money, and influence. Of course, Dumbledore believes Ares to be The Phoenix, but he is the only one. That is thanks to my League training and giving the darkness inside of me a new identity."

"Yes, your League training," Ra's said. "When did that occur? I know we have never met in any of your forms."

"Because we didn't meet until 1998," Ares replied. "I was hunting the last of Voldemort's Death Eaters. He'd come here to try and curry favor with you. You found what I could do, the lengths to which I was willing to go, appealing and offered me a place. Nanda Parbat is perhaps even closer to a home than Hogwarts was for me, which is saying something. I spent twenty years here, most of which I served as your Horseman."

"So, you came back from a future in which you had already destroyed magical Britain," Ra's mused. "I assume this was in the process of ascension to Ra's al Ghul?"

"Indeed," Ares replied. "Unlike certain individuals who vied for the Ring at the time, I had no qualms about erasing my past. By that point, the corruption ran too deep and there was no hope of redemption for them."

"Who were these individuals?" Ra's asked.

"First… what do you know about this ring?" Ares pulled the ring off his gloved hand, holding it up slightly. "It appeared on my finger not long after I returned to Hogwarts; it could even have been there before, and I hadn't noticed it."

"It is the Dragon's Claw," Ra's replied. "It signifies the person who wears it as the grandmaster of the League of Shadows, the magical equivalent to the League of Assassins. The last grandmaster was killed in the 1960s, and unlike my Ring," here, Ra's raised his own, "it is bound to bloodlines. If the grandmaster has not continued his bloodline, or it is wiped from existence, then the Dragon's Claw returns here to Nanda Parbat until one worthy of it comes along. To be worthy, you must achieve mastery over the arts of the League and be committed to eradicating the corruption of the wizarding world. Our few wizarding assassins since the death of the last bearer of the Dragon's Claw have been found unworthy."

"Voldemort," Ares said softly. "He eradicated many bloodlines even before he rose to power. The League of Shadows would have stood against him. He couldn't have that."

"Correct," Ra's said. "The League of Shadows was made up of wizards, witches, and what you call Squibs, able to see and enter magical buildings but not able to use magic themselves. But now, that time is over. You may call yourself The Phoenix, but that ring declares you as Ra's al Tanin, the Dragon's Head, Grandmaster of the League of Shadows."

Ares Peverell looked down at the ring as he slid it back on his finger. So much of what had happened since the war with Grindelwald made sense to him, now. The League of Shadows had been disbanded or eradicated following the death of the last Ra's al Tanin, and without the balance to the corruption, it had festered in the Light and the Dark. "I won't fail in the duties this ring bestows on me," he said. "I will bring balance back to the magical world. The League of Shadows won't fail again."

"Then come, Ra's al Tanin, and we will speak privately," Ra's said.

"It will be my pleasure, Ra's al Ghul," the newly minted Ra's al Tanin said.

**_*HPDC*_**

After a long discussion of certain future events with Ra's al Ghul (and doing his best to avoid a proposal of uniting the two bloodlines by having Harry wed Nyssa when the time came), the newly revealed Ra's al Tanin arrived back in Scotland and considered his next move. He briefly thought of shocking Dumbledore by dropping in and having a nice chat over tea and biscuits, but the amusement factor aside, that would do little for his long-term plans. His targets so far could easily be argued as both being on the 'Light' side of wizarding politics. Ra's smiled coldly; there was someone he owed a great deal of pain and suffering to, someone who had helped keep the wizarding world from truly being prepared.

It was time Lucius Malfoy met a true dragon, rather than the 'dragon' his son pretended to be.

**_*HPDC*_**

Lucius Malfoy woke shivering on a cold stone floor. Sitting up and looking around wildly, he realized he was in his dungeons. His wife was nearby, likewise chained, but unlike him she had been gagged. "**You know,**" said a man in the shadows, his voice disguised by a Modulation Charm, "**the only ones I feel sorry for that I had to deal with tonight is the House Elves. I know you don't care about them, they're simply servants to you and easily replaceable, but I made the deaths quick.**" The figure stepped out of the shadows, and Lucius felt his stomach clench even as Narcissa moaned as they realized their captor was none other than The Phoenix.

"**Good evening, Lucius, Narcissa,**" the killer said. "**You will be helping me send a very important message. You see, I know the Department of Mysteries and the like are wondering about the significance of my ring, something I wondered about myself until very recently. Well, now we'll all know. This ring marks me as Ra's al Tanin, master of the League of Shadows. Had the League been active during Voldemort's reign, you both would have died long before your son was ever born; that Imperius defense and gold wouldn't have held weight with us. But we're back now, and this time we will serve our purpose. Already, those who are tired of wearing masks have begun to seek me out, and soon the League will show its strength.**

"**Tonight, however, is a demonstration to show my willingness to extend mercy,**" the man now calling himself Ra's said. He waved a hand at Narcissa Malfoy, whose bonds were broken. "**Narcissa, you love your family, do you not?**"

"I-I do," Narcissa said.

"**I will give you a chance to still be there for your son,**" Ra's said. He gestured to the knife that was currently resting on the ground, a goblin-forged blade. "**Pick this blade up, and stab Lucius in the heart. He will die, but you will live to be there for your son, to show him love that Lucius would deny him if your situations were reversed. Or am I wrong? Would Lucius show Draco love and caring in his time of despair?**"

"No," Narcissa said softly. Lucius' eyes widened as Narcissa picked up the blade, turning towards him. "Lucius is like his father; unwilling to show emotion, unwilling to give Draco the support he would need." Narcissa moved towards Lucius, Ra's watching her, and raised the blade… only to turn and throw it expertly in Ra's' direction. Ra's caught the blade, to the horror of both Narcissa and Lucius, and sent it back without even flinching. The blade sank deep into Narcissa's chest, and she collapsed in front of Lucius, who could only watch as his wife died in front of him.

"**A pity,**" Ra's said, "**but then again, perhaps not so much. Draco might well become a skilled assassin, if given the proper tools. The death of ones' parents is an excellent motivator, Lucius. Now, your wife is still useful to me, or rather her soul is. But you, Lucius… you have no use for me whether alive or as a spirit.**" Ra's allowed his wand to drop into his hand. "**Murder and rape. Setting in motion the attacks on Hogwarts School. Using your power and influence to weaken magical Britain for the next Dark Lord, if not a resurrected Voldemort, to take over quicker. For all of these, Lucius, I sentence you to the worst fate a man can endure: the destruction of their soul. **_**Avada Kedavra!**_"

The green energy shot from the wand of Ra's and struck Lucius across the chest. The man fell to the ground, a vacant expression on his face, and Ra's flamed away to a castle in Scotland.

Inside the office of Albus Dumbledore, Ra's pulled an empty vial from his pouch and withdrew the memory of his latest exploits. "**A little gift for you, Albus,**" he said with a mirthless chuckle, knowing the portraits would report his presence to the old man. He placed the vial on the desk and flamed away, arriving back in his trunk. He saw Fred and George were still meditating, the first step in discovering your animal form, and Sirius was reading a book… no, make that a magazine.

De-aging and returning to his Hogwarts robes, Harry shook his head and said, "Really, Sirius? I would expect that from Ron, maybe, or Draco's two goons…"

"What?" Sirius asked defensively. "A good-looking witch is a good-looking witch."

"Yeah, we're not having this conversation," Harry said.

"Well, then, what were you up to?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, nothing much," Harry said with a shrug. "I found out this ring makes me the head of the League of Shadows, the magical equivalent of the League of Assassins, had a fun talk with Ra's al Ghul where he tried to set me up with his daughter who grew up to be one scary woman before I killed her, and I killed your cousin Narcissa and her bi-curious husband. You?"

Sirius took a moment to unravel what Harry said. "Bi-curious husband?" he finally asked. He wasn't particularly sad about Narcissa.

"You explain his focus on his appearance some other way," Harry scoffed.

"Point," Sirius sighed. "So, this daughter of Ra's al Ghul…"

"A, she's_ nine_," Harry said. "B, she prefers girls, or will when she develops a sex drive. C, I'm gonna have enough problems bringing balance to the _magical_ world. I don't need to be responsible for the mundane world as well. Besides," here, Harry's expression darkened, "if I did end up being responsible for the mundane world as well as the magical, I might just think Damien Darhk had the right idea."

Before Sirius could say anything else, Fred and George broke out of their trance. "Harry, you're back," Fred said. "Any details?"

"Not right now," Harry said tiredly. "Did you find your forms?"

"Jackal," Fred said.

"Hyena," George said.

"Well, then, those are your identities, or rather the identities for your darkness," Harry said. "Just as I am now the Dragon's Head, and yes, you will get an explanation for that. Welcome, Jackal, Hyena, to the League of Shadows." At the twins' confused looks, Harry smiled and began to explain what he had been up to while they were meditating.

**_A/N: Hope the explanation for why there was no League of Shadows before now makes sense to people. _**

**_I'll be honest: re-reading some of this story as I repost it is making me cringe inside. I'm definitely gonna do a rewrite and leave this up so people can see the difference. _**


	15. Dark Waters

_**A/N: Decided to make up for the late update yesterday by making sure this got posted early. **_

Chapter 15:

Dark Waters

The second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had arrived, but unlike the previous task, the atmosphere in the Great Hall was neither festive nor excited. The previous task had ended with the death of one of the champions, and some wondered if perhaps there would be another death in this Tournament, and if there was, who would it be? Would it be Viktor Krum, the surly Champion who was also one of the top players in the International Quidditch League? Would it by the alluring and enchanting Fleur Delacour, whom had been the wet dream of all the hot-blooded males on the grounds (and a few of the ladies)? Or would it be the underdog of the Tournament, Harry Potter, who had quickly proven himself more than capable of standing with his competitors (and of being better than one of them)?

Harry had taken note of who was and was not a part of the breakfast meal in the Great Hall. Hermione was once more gone, no doubt to become Krum's hostage since he had still taken her to the Yule Ball; Fleur was looking a bit frantic as she tried to find Gabrielle; and Harry was glad to note Dumbledore wasn't going to be particularly obtuse and stick Ron down there in an attempt to 'mend the fences' between Harry and his former best friend. Taking stock of his own table, Harry had to resist raising his eyebrows as he realized who wasn't there. "Oh, Dumbledore," he murmured. "This was such a bad idea if you didn't ask permission…"

"Eh?" Draco asked. Since his parents' murder at the end of December, he had been unusually quiet and withdrawn, worrying most of those who knew him. He had wrapped his Slytherin mask around him like a shield, becoming even colder and more emotionless as the weeks had gone on without any progress in the hunt for the serial killer who now called himself Ra's al Tanin.

"Daphne's not here," Harry said. "Neither is Granger or Delacour's sister. The clue from the egg was 'we've taken what you'll sorely miss'. Since I'm not particularly close to anyone, they appear to have picked my date for the Yule Ball."

"But where did they put them?" Draco asked, looking at Harry with some degree of interest.

"The Black Lake, I suspect," Harry said. "The egg's rhyme was in Mermish."

Draco's eyes lit up with a malicious sort of glee. "Oh, I see what you mean," he said, looking towards the Head Table. "Delacour, they would've had to get permission for considering her family's position in the French Ministry of Magic. Granger's a Muggleborn, so Dumbledore had all the authority he needed. But Greengrass… her father would _never_ have allowed it."

"Precisely," Harry said, emerald eyes glinting. "I do believe the Headmaster will be getting some more bad press before too long."

Draco leaned back, relishing the idea, and the Slytherins in their year looked over at Harry, giving slight nods to show they approved of what he did. He could have kept quiet and not said anything directly, but he had given Draco something to hold onto, something to savor during the upcoming task. That was a far cry from the emotionless, distant Draco they had been dealing with. Just as the Harry who now sat at the Slytherin table was a far cry from the Harry who had first taken his place here in September.

An hour or so later, Harry joined Krum and Fleur on the dock. Krum remained stoic (which made Harry think that he and Krum had been in the same boat as far as their hostages went) and Fleur was trying to hide her desperation. Harry knew why, of course; while the merfolk in the Black Lake had never engaged in conflict with Veela like some of their cousins had, they still held a certain amount of distaste for those of Veela descent, and even if Fleur could handle herself, Gabrielle couldn't. Harry, of course, had the foreknowledge that both would make it out of the task alive, though Fleur would have a new appreciation for the Grindylows… that was, _if_ he didn't help the merfolk's animosity along. He was intent on seeing Dumbledore ruined as soon as he could, but dare he risk the possibility of the merfolk attacking Gabrielle as well? Then Harry remembered; Veela, even those who were not full-blooded such as Fleur and Gabrielle, did not become 'active' in their abilities until they hit puberty. While Fleur would register as a Veela to the merfolk, Gabrielle would not.

Harry kept his face straight as he waited to be given the signal to dive. He would follow Fleur for a time and cast an Aggression Charm on her. At the signal, Harry dived into the water alongside Fleur and Krum, having raised a bubble-head charm around himself, same as Fleur. Krum had done the same as he did in the last timeline and half-transformed into a shark. Harry watched as Krum swam off in one direction, Fleur in another. Harry Disillusioned himself and followed Fleur without making too much disruption in the water. Once they were deep enough that the crowds couldn't see and the water was murky, Harry sent an Aggression Charm at Fleur as she brushed by some seaweed before turning and heading for the merfolk village.

The Aggression Charm was a bit of a misleading name, Harry thought. It would appear to most to mean that the person it was cast upon would become more aggressive, but that was incorrect. In truth, it would cause those naturally inclined to be aggressive to an individual to be even more so. In this case, the merfolk would be more inclined to attack Fleur, and since she _had_ been the only one that he cast it on, Gabrielle would remain safe and sound until the judges retrieved her from the bottom of the lake.

As he swam, Harry considered his own progress since Christmas. Ra's al Tanin had been busy in the wizarding world and at Hogwarts (though only those sworn to the League of Shadows knew the latter). In the wizarding world, a number of those who would follow Dumbledore's lead had been killed by the assassin, as had a number of those on the Dark Side. The ones who remained were ineffectual or easily manipulated by powerful individuals, which Harry could provide in the form of Ares Peverell. A new power block was building around Ares, one he would use to his advantage when the time came. Dumbledore had grown increasingly frantic with the death of each person he had cultivated a relationship with, and Harry soaked in the satisfaction of knowing he was corrupting those Dumbledore wanted to cultivate new relationships with.

Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Padma Patil, and Luna Lovegood had all joined from Ravenclaw; the promise of secret knowledge had been enough for the first three, and Luna had always needed a place to belong due to her eccentricities. Parvati Patil hadn't been so surprising, though Lavender Brown had been. Once Harry had thought about it, though, he realized just how much those two hid behind their faux-cheerleader facades, as he would call them if they attended a normal school. Dean Thomas had likewise joined the League of Shadows from Gryffindor, and the Twins were already onboard. Katie Bell was currently being considered as an option, as well, but Harry wasn't ready to commit there yet. Hufflepuff was more problematic. There were those Harry felt could be useful in the League, but for the time being most of Hufflepuff still saw him as the 'Usurper' for not informing Cedric of the dragons. In the end, Harry would prefer not to recruit from Hufflepuff until they had moved beyond the issue. In the end, the only Hufflepuff that mattered was Susan Bones due to her family's political ties.

As for Slytherin… Harry was waiting for certain people to approach him. By the end of the Tournament, he had no doubt they would have done so due to his skill in this task and the final task.

Harry arrived at the merfolk village and saw that Daphne, Hermione, and Gabrielle had been secured in the town square. Unlike the previous timeline, Harry didn't bother looking at the hostages of his competitors and cut Daphne free. Grabbing her, he began swimming for the surface. Minutes later, he and Daphne broke through the surface, and he dispelled the Bubblehead Charm as Daphne gasped for air. She looked over at him. "Potter, what's going on?" she asked. "Last thing I remember is going into Slughorn's office and him saying he needed my help with the Second Task."

"The judges weren't particularly intelligent when it came to that," Harry said as they swam towards the docks. "They wanted to take the people that mattered most to the champions and stick them at the bottom of the lake. Krum and I aren't easy to read, so they took our dates to the Ball."

"My father would never have agreed to something like this," Daphne scoffed.

"I know," Harry said with a grin. "Now, let's get to shore and we'll see about getting Dumbledore in trouble. No doubt the other judges believed he got permission from your parents because of that damned grandfatherly twinkle and the wizarding world's belief he can do no wrong." _Though that part isn't as true as it once was,_ Harry mused with a sadistic glee. Dumbledore's reputation had taken quite the beating in the wizarding world since he had publicly condemned the "head of a resurgent pureblood line" with a "false accusation of being the serial killer now calling himself Ra's al Tanin".

Thanks, in part, to Dumbledore's now less-than-pristine reputation, Daphne's father might well be more willing to go after Dumbledore for using his daughter in the Task. Hermione, even without her authority issues, would have been useless in this regard since Dumbledore and the Heads of House served _in loco parentis_ for Muggleborn and orphaned students, and McGonagall had proven that even if she recognized Dumbledore's failings, she would still support his decisions. Harry was certain that there was a degree of irony in the fact that the Gryffindor Head of House was stalwart in the face of that which was obviously evil (Voldemort and his ilk) but cowered away from confronting the subtler evils.

Speaking of obvious evils, Harry intended to deal with the Ring Horcrux once the Task was done and the after-task reception (if one was held) had passed. He would use the Time Turner and deal with the Horcrux as Ares or Ra's. While he would love to strike at Nagini or capture Wormtail, Harry knew that both needed to survive to his duel with Voldemort at the end of the Third Task. Nagini had played a role in keeping Voldemort corporeal until the ritual, and if he grabbed Wormtail, Voldemort would have to bring Crouch Jr. in. That would leave a problem in the form of Alastor Moody. As much as Harry hated it, he _needed_ everything to play out as it had before, to a point. They couldn't cancel the Tournament due to the contract, but there would be extra security if Crouch Jr. left and Moody turned up dead or otherwise went missing.

As Daphne and Harry reached the docks, cries of dismay could be heard from the crowd. Turning in the water, Harry allowed a horrified expression to cross his face as he saw the trident-ridden form of Fleur Delacour floating on the surface, blood surrounding her. As if that wasn't enough, the shark-head that was Viktor Krum rose not far away before going after the body, savaging it. Harry and Daphne scrambled out of the water as the security currently present fired stunners at the form of Krum, who stopped savaging the body. Harry and Daphne watched as Krum was brought onto the docks and the Transfiguration reversed. He could see a number of harsh words being exchanged before the Tournament judges moved back into position. Dumbledore cast the Sonorus Charm on himself, and Harry focused on the wizened sorcerer.

"Hogwarts and the Tournament has once more been struck by tragedy," Dumbledore said, even as Harry noted a team of Aurors arriving at the shore in clothing suitable for swimming. "For reasons currently unknown, Beauxbatons Champion Fleur Delacour was attacked by the merfolk in the village. Prior to this, Durmstrang Champion Viktor Krum had attempted to use his transfigured form to free his hostage, Hermione Granger, but severed the poor girl's leg. The blood loss from this wound overrode Mr. Krum's human mind and the shark mind took over. Ministry security forces are currently attempting to find Miss Granger's remains, as well as determine the status of Miss Delacour's hostage, her younger sister. This is a dark day for Hogwarts, and I must now state that so long as I am Headmaster, the Tri-Wizard Tournament will no longer be in effect after this Tournament is done. It is clear to me now we cannot control these tasks as we believed." Dumbledore cast the counter-spell and left the silent crowd to their thoughts.

**_*HPDC*_**

Ra's al Tanin approached the hovel that had been the home to Tom Riddle's mother and her inbred brother and father, his invisibility at peak capacity. He still remembered the day he had absorbed the Hallows and learned his could use their abilities without having the physical objects; it had been a skill that came in useful in his hunt for Dolohov and the others, and even more-so when he joined the League of Assassins. He still used the physical form of the Elder wand on occasion simply to amuse himself imagining the reaction he would get from the likes of Dumbledore.

He glanced down at the Dragon's Claw and chuckled mirthlessly as he finally remembered he _had_ tried it in the past timeline, but it hadn't accepted him then. It appeared he had needed to prove worthy of the title of Ra's before it would accept him, and he finally had. Now it was his duty to bring back the League of Shadows, something that he would put his entire focus on once Voldemort and Dumbledore were dealt with.

Arriving at the hovel, Ra's reached out with his magical senses. He knew what had happened with Dumbledore in the last timeline, so he knew the ring would have a Compulsion Charm on it at the very least. Stepping over the property line, Ra's found the magic concentrated on the front door of the hovel, where a fresh-looking snake corpse was pinned. Obviously, Muggles wouldn't wander into this property (he had sensed a Muggle-repelling charm), so Ra's suspected the snake was preserved with magic. As he came within two feet, the serpent seemed to activate, its head raising up as it hissed, "_Who trespasses?_"

A password protection with Parseltongue, then. Unsurprising; the one thing that Ra's and Dumbledore could agree on was that Tom Riddle, regardless of how much of his soul he had, was a very arrogant being who believed he alone could discover various secrets of magic. From the Chamber of Secrets to the Room of Requirement to the fact that he had ensured there would be no other Heirs of Slytherin to rival him, it was clear how much he valued his lineage, so long as he was the only one who could claim it. "_The Heir of Salazar Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four,_" Ra's tried, preparing to fight in case the password didn't work.

The password did work, however, and the door swung open. Ra's stepped carefully into the hovel, noting a pair of skeletons that had been left to rot. They were both reaching out towards a section of the floor near where you would put a table to eat on. Ra's looked to the creature on the door, then to the skeletons on the floor. Wizarding criminals, no doubt, who had tried to get through the door and find whatever might be hidden here. The serpent would have struck, poisoning them, and they would have died while in the throes of the Compulsion Charm. Or was there some other guardian to the ring?

Ra's turned and swung his hand downward, cutting through a snake that erupted from the woodwork. An anaconda, he noted, as even more serpents of varying sizes wormed their way into existence. So, the password hadn't worked after all; the snake on the door was merely a method of determining whether the person entering had Parseltongue or not. Voldemort would wish to know of others with the same gift of tongues so he could dispatch of them personally. An Anaconda would keep intruders in their grip, and the other serpents that Ra's was currently delivering cutting curses to had slow-acting venoms. Some struck at him, but he wasn't worried; he had learned during his time in Nanda Parbat that the basilisk venom and phoenix tears combined in his blood kept him safe from any venom-based poisons, or indeed the venoms themselves. It would still slow him down some as the phoenix tears purged the poison, but he wouldn't die from it.

The last serpent fell to a cutting curse, and Ra's took a moment to get an idea of how much damage he had taken. Most of the attacks hadn't come close to piercing his gear, but a few had attacked his neck and he could feel blood trickling down onto his chest. _Damn_, he thought, and made a mental note to see Madam Morrigan about an upgraded uniform, perhaps something that guarded the neck a bit easier. Moving to where the skeletons' hands were outstretched, he waved his hand over a seemingly blank piece of ground. It vanished to reveal a small, ornate box. Casting a wandless Levitation Charm, Ra's used magic to open the box as it levitated in front of him. There, sitting on a velvet rest, was the ring that held this timeline's version of the Resurrection Stone. Like the other versions, it had lost its potency when he arrived with the bonded versions, but it still had enough that it could drive a person mad…

Drawing his dagger, Ra's delivered a blow to the Ring and held his ground as the Ring reacted to its destruction. Weathering the storm of magical energy, Ra's watched as the Stone fell out of its setting and dispelled the Compulsion Charm and the Withering Curse before closing the case. He had a few ideas of what to do with this little beauty. Stepping out of the hovel, Ra's had only a moment of warning before he was enveloped in a blinding flash of blue light. Pain ripped through his body as he fell to the ground, unconsciousness coming moments later.

**_*HPDC*_**

Ra's came to in a holding room, though not like one he had seen before. He had seen Muggle holding rooms on missions where his targets were in the custody of the police; he had seen more than one holding room during his rampage across Europe hunting for the remaining Voldemort sympathizers and supporters; and he had seen the Ministry holding rooms when he had been 'captured' in order to distract the Ministry from the League of Assassins' infiltration. This one, though, was different. He was held within a circle of light, and he could not move a muscle. When he twitched, an electrical charge shot through him, keeping him in pain. Finally, the door to the chamber he was being held in opened, and a man wearing the robe of an Unspeakable entered.

"**The Department of Mysteries,**" Ra's said. "**I should have known; you're the only ones who not only **_**possess**_** the skill of critical thinking but are able to apply it.**"

"I see you know what I am to the outside world," the Unspeakable said, and pulled his hood away, revealing the face of Algernon Croaker, the brother of Augusta Longbottom and great-uncle to Neville Longbottom. "Yet you do not know what I truly am, Ra's al Tanin. Or should I be calling you Harry Potter?"

**_A/N:_** **_For those wondering, yes, Gabrielle survived. Fleur and Hermione were the only victims of the Second Task._**

**_Regarding Hermione: while in the films Krum seemed to have control over his Transfiguration, in the books Harry was depicted as being worried Krum would accidentally rip Hermione in half or something of the sort while trying to free her. _**


	16. The Toad & The Goat

**_A/N: After this, there are only two more chapters to this story (though AO3 readers already know that). _**

**_On another note, I believe I will be shifting focus back to Harry Potter until at least January. For those who are also readers of my Arrowverse works, all I will say is I'm getting sick of the general fandom drama as the end of an era draws near. I will be updating my profile soon with a full explanation. _**

**_Now, enough babbling from me. Enjoy._**

Chapter 16:

The Toad & The Goat

There was silence for a moment before Croaker continued, "Don't attempt to dissuade me from what I know to be true, Ra's. We knew about your arrival almost instantly and have monitored your actions since your arrival. The Department of Mysteries does not simply study time; we monitor it and ensure that the world of magic is kept safe from certain _elements_ that would use time as a weapon."

"**Such as me,**" Ra's replied. "**So, Croaker, why have you only now brought me in? I presume this is meant to keep me prisoner until you decide to kill me or erase my mind or whatever it is you do with time aberrations?**"

"No," Croaker said. "We have observed you are quite paranoid and don't trust easily. We have secured you only so you will hear us out. After that, if you wish to go, you are free to. We have no intention of stopping you."

"**Very well,**" Ra's replied. "**Get on with it.**"

"The Department of Mysteries has existed for centuries," Croaker began, "but after the War with Grindelwald, it was… superseded by another, far older organization, one that had been targeted by both Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, and eventually Lord Voldemort. Our leader was struck down in a three-way duel with Voldemort and Dumbledore, and we have adapted to survive, using the cover of the Department of Mysteries to watch for a sign that our purpose may once more be to serve the balance. Until your appearance this summer and the revelation during your execution of Severus Snape, we had had no sign."

"**The Department of Mysteries is the League of Shadows,**" Ra's surmised. It made sense, he supposed. If he recalled right, the Department of Mysteries had been wiped out when Voldemort seized control of the Ministry. Whether Voldemort knew what they were or merely suspected they would be a threat to his regime was up for debate, but the result had been the same.

"And we are prepared to swear our loyalty to the new Dragon's Head," Croaker said, and with a wave of his wand, deactivated the field holding Ra's prisoner. "So, Ra's al Tanin, what will it be?"

Ra's' hand shot forward, gripping the other wizard's throat in a vice-like grip. Croaker gave a remarkable impression of his name as Ra's hissed out, "**Restrain me again, deceive me again, and I will not simply kill you. No, death should be a release from punishment rather than the punishment itself, Mr. Croaker. You are already on thin ice with me due to your actions with your great-nephew. I **_**despise**_** those who abuse a child because he is not what they wish him to be.**" Ra's released Croaker with a shove. "**Now, before you show me to the others… **_**kneel**_** and pledge your loyalty, life, and magic to Ra's al Tanin, master of the League of Shadows.**" Croaker did so as Ra's watched carefully. He would not simply trust these people, whether they were useful or not. They had adapted to survive but been without proper leadership and discipline since the death of the previous Dragon's Head.

As it turned out, the Department of Mysteries was a small unit of wizards, witches, and Squibs. The Squibs kept tabs on the Muggle world so they could better guard the wizarding world from things such as surveillance, while the witches and wizards either served as researchers here in the Department of Mysteries or as field agents, in which case they took care of those subversive types they could get at without arousing suspicion, regardless of affiliation. "Your rise to prominence has emboldened us," Croaker told Ra's after the last of the League had sworn their allegiance to him. "We have had targets we knew corrupted our world but finding a way to take them down without drawing suspicion on the Department of Mysteries was a different matter."

"**But now that I have shown I can enter Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor, that has the wizarding world panicking and, once they have confirmed I am indeed who I claim to be, will leave them wondering what else the League of Shadows is capable of,**" Ra's mused. "**I assume you have magical devices that can break through wards, or perhaps simply make holes in them, small enough for someone to slip through, and other such ideas?**"

"Yes," Bode, the head of the research division, replied. "May I ask, my lord: what was that stone you had with you when we found you?"

"**The stone is this timeline's version of the Resurrection Stone. I had intended to leave it for Dumbledore, perhaps to drive him further over the edge," **Ra's replied. "**But if you wish to study it, I won't be opposed. I know such abilities are useful in bringing our enemies to their knees.**"

"We will begin studying it at once, Ra's," Bode said with a bow.

Ra's turned to Croaker. "**From what you've said, you want to make a statement,**" he said. "**When I killed Lucius and Narcissa, I gave a message to the Ministry and Dumbledore. So far, they seem to believe I'm bluffing since I have acted alone. Perhaps it is time they saw the League of Shadows has truly returned. Who do you have lined up for targets to be hit?**"

Croaker handed Ra's a file, and the time traveler looked through the list. He paused at one name. "**This one,**" he said, pointing at it, "**I'll handle myself. It's a **_**personal matter**_**.**"

"As you wish," Croaker said, taking the file. "When do we strike?"

"**Twenty-four hours from now,**" Ra's replied. "**I need to get back to Hogwarts, so Dumbledore doesn't become suspicious. Right now, I'm 'holed up' grieving over the loss of Hermione. I didn't expect her to die in the Task, but I guess I should have remembered that I had to get Krum to use a rock to cut her free the last time around.**" Of course, there was that small matter of the conversation he had overheard after the Second Task to consider.

Ra's flamed away, and the remaining assassins-turned-Unspeakables came to Croaker for their assignments. The wizarding world was about to get a rude awakening.

**_*HPDC*_**

Harry had gotten back to Hogwarts just in time as he exited from the trunk to find Horace Slughorn waiting for him. "Mr. Potter," Slughorn said. "The Headmaster wanted to speak with you."

"Right," Harry replied shortly, and followed the new Head of Slytherin to the Headmaster's office, while mentally smirking at the fact that no one was willing to try and get into his trunk while he was in there. The last time someone had tried (a seventh year with an ax to grind against Harry simply for being a half-blood in the 'house of the pure'), they had been zapped and blasted backwards by the protections Harry had on the trunk, and both Slughorn and Dumbledore had approved of Harry's security measures, for different reasons: Slughorn because it showed magical prowess, and Dumbledore because despite his claims, he did suspect most Slytherins to be Dark and he wanted Harry to be safe. The trunk could serve as Harry's safe haven in Slytherin, as far as Dumbledore was concerned, and Harry had counted on Dumbledore's deluded beliefs that he was still 'Dumbledore's man through and through' as he had once proudly accepted to keep him from checking the trunk and discovering Sirius as well as the lair of Ra's al Tanin.

Harry was left to wait for the Headmaster in his office and looked around, noting that Fawkes was observing him keenly. "Hello, Fawkes," Harry said, reaching out and petting the phoenix, who trilled in greeting as it sensed a kindred spirit. Harry had not been lying, per se, about Fawkes' nature when he spoke of it to Crouch Sr. Phoenixes _were_ creatures of balance… there was just no actual affiliation as far as the colors of a phoenix were concerned. He had enjoyed the furor that had caused when that memory eventually made its way to the press (no doubt through the machinations of Croaker). Dumbledore had had to assure the students he was by no means tempted by the darkness more than any other.

"It is good to see you and Fawkes getting along so well," Dumbledore said as he came from where Harry knew the headmaster's personal library was located. Before conquering Hogwarts, he had only been there once before, when Dumbledore had told him the prophecy. He knew there was a ward to keep people getting through, aside from those Dumbledore wanted to do so. "Harry, I know you and Miss Granger have had your differences, but I was wondering how you were taking her death?"

Harry's mind flashed back to the moment after the task he had been thinking of earlier, when he had cloaked himself to avoid dealing with someone like Ron wanting to confront him for not rescuing Hermione (which the red tinge to the other boy's ears when Harry had spotted him told the time-travelling assassin was precisely the case), and inwardly smiled. It was time to begin working on the next stage of taking Dumbledore's influence away. The wizard-raised students were easy to deal with; the Muggleborns, though, they saw him as their champion. It was time to begin cutting away that pillar of support for the old man. "I'd probably be a lot better if I didn't know what _really_ happened," Harry said. "I could take it just being a part of the task; look what happened to Fleur, to Cedric… but knowing someone I called my best friend for three years was _murdered_ makes me angry, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked alarmed at what Harry said. "What do you mean, murdered?" he asked.

"I thought Daphne and Hermione were both chosen because Krum and I aren't exactly effusive people these days," Harry said. "but I overheard Krum and Karkaroff after the task. Didn't it ever occur to you to wonder _why_ a brilliant Muggleborn would attract the attention of the champion of a school dedicated to pureblood philosophies?" Harry stood, leaning on the desk so he was staring right at Dumbledore. "It doesn't do to have a _Mudblood_ showing up _proper purebloods_ in their eyes, now does it, Headmaster?"

"Harry, I wish I could do something," Dumbledore said. "I know you want justice. But the Tournament, and its contestants, are given immunity by international law. Even if we could provide solid proof that Igor and his champion set out to kill Ms. Granger, we could do nothing."

"You mean _you_ can't do anything," Harry said. "I wonder if a certain _vigilante_ would agree."

"Making that sort of choice may cost you more than you're willing to part with in the long run, Harry," Dumbledore cautioned. "If you go down that path, I cannot protect you."

Harry smirked. "Immunity, remember?" he asked sarcastically. "But don't worry, Dumbledore. I won't do anything… yet. Hermione and I had our differences, and I certainly think she put too much stock in authority, but she was fifteen. She had so much she _could_ have done with her life, and that's gone now because of two elitist bastards." Harry rose. "So, for the record, you are going to do nothing even if I were to provide memory evidence that Krum and Karkaroff conspired to murder a Hogwarts student, and a Muggle-born at that?"

"I can do nothing," Dumbledore said again. Harry nodded and left the headmaster's office. The old wizard sat in his chair and looked to his familiar. "What will he do Fawkes?" The phoenix trilled sadly. "I feared as much," Dumbledore sighed. "I just hope that in taking this path he does not become the same as the man who destroyed his life."

**_*HPDC*_**

Dolores Umbridge slowly swam back to consciousness, vaguely recognizing the feeling of something clamped around her wrists and ankles. As her mind cleared, she remembered that she had been returning home when she had fallen unconscious, the impact of a spell to the back being the last thing she recalled vividly. Dolores looked around, trying to figure out where she was. It was a dungeon of some kind, and a figure could be seen in the shadows. "Who are you?" she demanded to know. "I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and you will release me if you do not wish to face the Dementor's Kiss!"

"The last I checked," the figure in the shadows said, stepping forward to reveal the face of Ares Peverell, "the Ministry of Magic had already ordered me to be Kissed upon capture. Something about killing the oh-so-noble members of wizarding society. Noble, in this case, meaning corrupt."

"Y-you're the serial killer?" Umbridge stammered out.

"Serial killer implies that I have a specific kind of victim and a specific M.O.," Ares said. "Of course, perhaps the wizarding world has a different idea of what a serial killer is than the Muggle one. What I am, Dolores, is a man who has been tasked with cleansing this world of corruption. In that regard, yes, I could be called a serial killer as all those I killed had that in common. But I prefer to think of myself as an agent of balance, a balance that has been gone from the Wizarding World thanks to the actions of Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. But we're back now, and the wizarding world is about to learn that fact."

"W-what do you mean?" Dolores asked.

"Oh, that would be spoiling the surprise," Ares replied grandly. "You see, Dolores, I was going to kill you… but then I realized that, like Albus Dumbledore, your death should be a release from this life once your sentence has been carried out. So, you will remain here, imprisoned, and watch as your carefully ordered, pureblood driven world is brought to its knees and created anew by those who once acted from the shadows. Enjoy the show, Dolores." Ares departed the dungeon, chuckling as heard Umbridge's shouted oaths behind him. Killing Dolores would've been too simple, too clean after all she had put the wizarding world through even to this point. He was going to enjoy sending her the _Daily Prophet_ through Dobby and let her read as his League brought the current Ministry to its knees.

**_*HPDC*_**

Cornelius Fudge was tossing and turning, trapped in a fretful sleep, as Ra's al Tanin entered his bedroom. The good Minister was unmarried, having sacrificed the chance at a relationship for power, not unlike a certain Weasley had. Ra's looked down at the Minister from behind his cowl, considering the man in front of him. In a way, he almost wished to keep the man in power simply because of how easy Fudge was to manipulate, and as Ares Peverell he could easily slip into the void filled by the likes of Dolores Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy.

But in the end, the very thing that might have been Fudge's saving grace was also his undoing, as Ra's knew that, like a certain rat, Fudge would ally with the strongest in order to survive, and on the off-chance someone _seemed_ more powerful than Ares, then Fudge could be tempted to act against his interests. No, it was better to ensure that the Minister was someone who would keep his own counsel. Scrimgeour may have been an opportunist during the War in the last timeline, but he had also stood by his decisions, even when they were unpopular with those that he wanted to have influence with. That was something Ra's could respect.

Fudge didn't even wake up as Ra's plunged the venom-infused dagger into his heart, the venom coursing through the man's veins from his damaged heart. Ra's watched the man's fitful sleep ended, his breathing quieted, and the flickering of his eyes stilled. Pulling a second, clean dagger, Ra's placed the blade against Fudge's nostrils, checking to see if the man was even close to living. No breath misted the blade, and Ra's nodded to himself. Sheathing his blades, he flamed away and returned to Hogwarts in time to see the past version of himself vanish.

"How'd it go?" Sirius asked softly from where he was lounging in an armchair.

"Umbridge will have a few months before I finish with her," Harry said as he returned to his student form. "As for Fudge… he was an irritant, and a fool, but his greatest sin was giving his people, like Umbridge, too much leeway and being too susceptible to the jingle of gold. Unlike Umbridge and the others, he did not deserve to suffer as fully."

**_A/N: For those wondering on the Fudge front, well, looking back on the books objectively (as Harry/Ra's would do) Fudge's greatest sins are being a fool who let Umbridge have too much leeway and letting the power (and the sound of gold) to get to him. In comparison to the others Harry has dealt with in this fic, Fudge is very low on the totem pole and was only taken out because he tends to find a way to stay close to those in power._**


	17. Two Sides of the Coin

_**A/N: Okay, so just so everyone knows, this chapter skips ahead to the day of the Third Task. When I wrote this story originally, I ended up running out of story ideas and so I used "Daily Prophet" articles to summarize what happened. **_

_**On another note, after some internal debate, I decided just to post this chapter and the final chapter today. Why make everyone wait for the grand finale? **_

Chapter Seventeen:

Two Sides of the Coin

Harry Potter knew that it made him look like one of those cliched villains who cackled over his triumphs, but he couldn't help but smiling in satisfaction as he looked over the headlines of the _Daily Prophet_ since the return of the League of Shadows to the wizarding world.

From the February 26, 1995, _Daily Prophet_:

_LEAGUE OF SHADOWS: ANCIENT CULT RETURNS FROM OBSCURITY_

_By_

_Matthias Weller_

_For several months now, the wizarding world has been plagued by a mysterious serial killer who had previously called himself 'The Phoenix' and later took the name 'Ra's al Tanin', which means 'Head of the Dragon'. We can now confirm that this Ra's al Tanin is not alone in his apparent crusade and has gathered followers from a previously thought-dead cult known as the League of Shadows. In a coordinated strike, they have taken the lives of several important members of society._

_Amongst the dead are those acquitted of being followers of You-Know-Who due to being under the Imperius Curse, members of Albus Dumbledore's intelligence organization known as the Order of the Phoenix, and several members of integral Ministry offices such as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Office of Patents and Permissions, and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has been found dead in his home of a single strike with a poisoned dagger, and Senior Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge has been reported missing. Tiberius Ogden has been appointed interim Minister of Magic until a special election in April._

_According to Ministry sources, the League of Shadows was created by Merlin and Morgana during their brief alliance to act as a balance between Light and Dark, but the organization has strayed far from their original purposes, according to recently deposed Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore. "The League of Shadows was a benign, if misguided organization who manipulated events to maintain the balance between the Light and the Dark," Dumbledore said when asked what he knew of the organization. "However, they have strayed from their original purpose and now simply kill those who they identify as 'corrupted', regardless of alignment, presumed crimes, or moral stances."_

_Sources within the Ministry report that former Chief Warlock Dumbledore's point of view may be skewed, as he is rumored to have been involved in the death of the previous Dragon's Head in a three-way duel with the master of the League of Shadows, Dumbledore, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the early days of the Blood War._

Harry was particularly amused by the part that cited Merlin and Morgana as being the creators of the League of Shadows. Anything to avoid giving credit to the Muggle world in any fashion, that was Wizarding Britain all over.

From the March 5, 1995, _Daily Prophet:_

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE: AS LIGHT AS HE'S PAINTED?_

_By_

_Matthias Weller_

_The_ Daily Prophet _recently received memories of two conversations that took place on the grounds of Hogwarts and, after vetting them through the Department of Mysteries and our own independent experts, are now ready to report the grim reality they unveil._

_The first memory reveals that the death of Hermione Granger, a brilliant Muggleborn student in her fourth year at Hogwarts and a former friend and ally of Hogwarts Champion Harry Potter, was orchestrated by Durmstrang Highmaster Igor Karkaroff and his Champion, Viktor Krum. Due to I.C.W. rulings, participants in international competitions such as the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the Dueling Circuit, and the Quidditch League are granted diplomatic immunity for the duration of the competition so long as it does not impede their competitors' directly. The source of the memory is currently unknown but has been authenticated._

_The second memory reveals that despite Albus Dumbledore's long-term championing of Muggleborns, he is unwilling to step up to bat for them in difficult situations such as this. The memory in question came from Harry Potter himself, after a heated discussion with Albus Dumbledore in which the man states he cannot do anything to take Viktor Krum to task for the murder of a promising young witch. When reached to for a comment, Albus Dumbledore had this to say: "I am grieved for the loss of such a promising student as Miss Granger, but I can do nothing due to international laws on the matter."_

_In speaking with graduated students of Hogwarts, a far different picture is painted. "Dumbledore didn't really do much of anything to stop the harassment of Muggleborns," says one recent graduate, half-blood Penelope Clearwater, who has been seen in the company of Ares Peverell, a new player on the field of politics. "Two years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and some kind of monster was attacking Muggleborns or those unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire, like I was. Dumbledore never called in the Aurors or the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. He set the prefects and teachers to patrol, but in the end, it was Harry Potter who had to fight the monster in the Chamber of Secrets." Further questioning of other graduates revealed the same information._

_Who is Albus Dumbledore, then? Is he the Leader of the Light who has stood as a bulwark against the Darkness for decades, or is he simply a charlatan who plays up the grandfatherly image in order to keep people from sensing his cancerous presence in their lives?_

Harry was particularly proud of Penelope's contribution at the end. She had used her contact with other former students who were disgruntled with the reality of the wizarding world that Dumbledore had done his best to keep them from learning about to drum up support. Dumbledore's reputation was in tatters, those he had hoped to cultivate relationships with shunned him, those he had previously cultivated relationships with were either dead or had distanced themselves due to his increasingly toxic reputation, and he had lost his positions on the Wizengamot and in the I.C.W. Only his headmastership remained, and with the Third Task finally here, Harry would put the final nail in Dumbledore's proverbial coffin. After that, all that remained was to take away the last thing Dumbledore desired above all else: the next great adventure.

The only other major moment of the past few months had been the election of Rufus Scrimgeour to the position of Minister of Magic. With the League of Shadows being perceived as a permeating threat akin to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the people of wizarding Britain had chosen a warrior for their Minister rather than a civilian. Madam Bones preferred to keep a handle on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had endorsed Scrimgeour as Minister. With the backing of Bones and Ares Peverell, it had been an easy win for the lion-like Minister, and he had proven open to suggestions from Ares due to the younger man's 'outside perspective', something that would come in useful with the coming days.

Well, there was that _other_ moment that happened only days earlier… a particularly salient moment for Harry regarding an old foe.

"_Hello, Dolores," Ares said as he entered the dungeon where he had been keeping the former Senior Undersecretary. She glared up at him through ratty, tangled hair. "Now, don't be like that," he chided. "I've come to release you, after all."_

"_Y-You're letting me go?" Umbridge simpered. "T-Thank you. I swear, I won't tell a soul who you are! I'll do whatever you need me to do in the Ministry to satisfy your plans!"_

"_There's no need for such promises," Ares said, his wand snapping into his hand. "You won't be playing a role in the world I will build."_

"_B-but you said you'd let me go!" Umbridge cried shrilly._

"_No," Ares said, "I said I was going to release you. Context is very important, madam. I said when I first brought you here that death is a release from this life once your sentence has been carried out. It has. I will now be releasing you from the burden of existence." Ares raised his wand at the cowering woman, summoning his hatred for this despicable bit of vermin and allowing it to fill every cell of his body. "Avada Kedavra!" The jet of green light shot from his wand and struck her in the torso. Dolores Umbridge fell to the ground, eyes glassy, as her soul was destroyed by the Curse._

_Ares cracked his neck by moving it side to side. "Ah, that feels better," he said quietly. "Dobby." The house-elf popped into existence. "Get rid of that," he said, gesturing to Umbridge's body._

Harry pulled out of the memory as Sirius and the Twins came up to him. "You ready for tonight?" Sirius asked somberly. He knew what Harry was planning, even understood it, but it was still hard to realize that tonight was the last time anyone would see Harry Potter.

"I am," Harry said. "Thanks to Jackal and Hyena, we've found the solution for my ageing potion problem and I don't have to remain in this pubescent body any longer. You may think its brilliant, Sirius, but I can't make the decisions I need to as Harry Potter, not with hormones constantly overtaking my emotional state. Harry Potter needs to die so Ares Peverell and Ra's al Tanin can provide much needed leadership to the wizarding world."

Sirius sighed and nodded before placing both hands on his godson's shoulders. "Whether you're Harry, Ra's, or Ares, you are my godson," he said, "and I will back you in every move."

**_*HPDC*_**

Harry had gone up against most of the same threats as in the previous timeline, but where before there had been a boggart that had formed into a Dementor, there was now a silvery mist hanging over a pond that separated him from the rest of the path. Stepping closer, Harry watched as the mist formed into the form of himself, but a version who shined brightly. "Well, this is different," he said dryly. "What kind of enchantment are you, I wonder?"

The mirage chuckled with good humor. "While I am the result of an enchantment, Ra's al Tanin, I am the result of your own nature," Mirage-Harry replied. "I am the best parts of yourself, consolidated into this form to confront you. There is a part of you, however miniscule you might think it is, that knows your path is not the right one, that knows that your plans will lead to ruin, paranoia, and eventually death. But it doesn't have to be that way. If you allow me to merge with you, we can purge the darkness and despair that has overtaken you."

"And what would you do about the corruption running rampant in the wizarding world?" Harry asked. "Allow the courts, which the corrupt control, to make the decision of who is sent to Azkaban and who is allowed to walk free? Ignore it altogether? What would you do, my saint-like opposite?"

"We have to believe in the system," Mirage-Harry replied, "and fix it where its broken."

"Oh, I'll fix what's broken," Harry replied, summoning his magic so it crackled at his fingertips like electricity, though a dark, turbulent red kind of electricity. "But I won't do it with something like you. We'll see how strong this part of me still is…" Harry unleashed the barrage of magical energy on Mirage-Harry, who threw up a white shield to block it. The energy crackled as it attacked the shield, turbulent red tendrils striking at the dome-like surface of the mirage's shield. After several long moments, the tendrils broke through the shield at several points, and Harry gave a smile of grim satisfaction as he heard the Mirage's screech of pain as it impacted with his power. When the screeching faded, Harry stopped his onslaught and found that nothing but charred ground remained in front of him. "Clearly, that part of me wasn't all that strong," Harry replied. "Nicely played, Dumbledore… but it won't save you from what's coming."

As he continued forward, he realized something. The part of him that was still an echo of the boy he had been, the boy he pretended to be, was gone. There was only his true self left, and the false persona he had created to manipulate events outside of Hogwarts.

Harry Potter was finally dead. Ra's al Tanin had finally gotten rid of that last shred of humanity that remained in him, holding back his potential.

Ra's al Tanin grinned without humor as he realized he had shed the last of his weaknesses. He would have to find a way to thank Dumbledore for that, before ending the old man's life. This would take some consideration… as Ra's rounded the corner that led down the path to the Tri-Wizard Cup, he noted that an acromantula was feasting on the body of Viktor Krum. If events had more or less unfolded as they did previously, Krum had likely been under the Imperius Curse. A quick _Reducto_ to the spider sent its remains showering down on the corpse of Krum and Ra's bypassed both sets of remains, intent on getting to the Cup. It was time for the public end of Harry James Potter.

**_*HPDC*_**

Ra's came to while bound to the tombstone; looking forward, he saw that Voldemort had already resurrected himself and was examining his new body. "You know," Ra's said, "if you really wanted to get a look at your new body, it'd be simpler to conjure a mirror. Unless, of course, you think the mirror would shatter." Inwardly, Ra's grimaced, but for now he needed Voldemort and Wormtail (who was cowering away like always) to believe he was the same smart-aleck boy he had been before returning to the past.

Voldemort turned to Ra's, his snake-like face bearing something akin to amusement. "Brave words for a boy about to die," he said. "That is the difference between us, Potter. I am willing to sacrifice what I must for power. You… you will sacrifice nothing for the sake of saving everything. Though I must applaud your split from Dumbledore. It showed you are more than a puppet. But with the advent of this _Phoenix_, I cannot allow any disbelief regarding my power in order to rebuild my forces. This is where we part ways, Potter." Voldemort took his wand from a cowering Wormtail. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The green light struck Ra's, who slumped against the tombstone as the Horcrux in his head was destroyed. Knowing what was coming, he had been able to guard himself from the curse by pushing the Horcrux fragment to the forefront, so to speak. Still, losing something that had been a part of him, for however long, was not particularly enjoyable and he needed a moment. Keeping as still as possible, Ra's looked to Voldemort and Nagini. The Dark Lord was on the ground, weakened by the loss of another soul piece (though he was unaware of what it meant), and the snake was focused entirely on her master, as was Wormtail. The remaining Horcruxes had been destroyed, Ra's knew; Gringotts had sent confirmation to his Ares persona, and the Horcruxes outside of Gringotts had been destroyed over the past months. The hardest had been the locket, since Sirius was reluctant to take his lordship as the head of the House of Black. In the end, the chance to get rid of Voldemort for good overrode his dislike of his family legacy (and it hadn't hurt that once they had the locket, Ra's had killed Kreacher in order to ensure no betrayals could occur again).

Now was the moment to strike, when Voldemort was at his weakest. Ra's gathered his magic and unleashed it, breaking his bonds and the very tombstone that he was held against. Landing on his feet, his clawed hand shot forward, snatching Wormtail and with a throwing gesture, the traitor was thrown hard against a tombstone, landing unconscious beneath it. Nagini hissed and coiled, preparing to strike at the threat to her master, but Ra's took the permanent ageing solution the twins had helped him create and switched into the persona of The Phoenix. His sword cleared its sheath even as Nagini struck outward and cleaved the snake in half. Voldemort, who had just been recovering, collapsed again as Ra's stalked forward.

"What-Who are you?" Voldemort gasped out.

"The future," Ra's said. "You and Albus have created an imbalance in the world, and it's time for that imbalance to be corrected." Ra's grabbed Voldemort by the robes and pulled him up, piercing his body with blade as he did so. Black blood spurted up out of the Dark Lord's mouth. "The problem with you and Albus," Ra's said as Voldemort dropped to his knees in front of him, "is that you monologue far too much." Ra's withdrew his blade from Voldemort's body and decapitated the Dark Lord. If there was one thing Ra's had learned in the previous timeline, it was to take the tactical advantage if you could, and this time he had had the chance. There would be no second Blood War, there would be no Battle of Hogwarts, there would be no imbalance as the Light waned and the Dark reigned supreme.

One more death, and there would be _balance_.

Ra's turned to the unconscious Wormtail and grinned beneath his mask. It was time to set the dominoes of Dumbledore's downfall tumbling.

**_A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this one. One more chapter to go._**

**_Also, sorry for those who were hoping for an epic duel between Ra's and Voldemort, but I can promise that Dumbledore will put up one hell of a fight. Figured it would be best to end the story with the duel between two of the most powerful wizards. _**


	18. The Final Problem

**_A/N: Here's the final chapter. A reminder that, at the moment, I have no plans to do a sequel but that can always change in the future. _**

Chapter 18:

The Final Problem

Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily as he sank into the chair of the headmaster for what was to be the last time; at the end of term, he would be required to retire from his post and never hold a post as a teacher of any kind again. His last great joy would be taken from him in his twilight years, and it was a pain Albus had never thought he would have to bear. But he had been played like a fiddle, and he was certain he knew the identity of the fiddler playing the tune of his demise, a demise that came because he was at his most vulnerable, a convenient scapegoat for the recent ills of society. At one time, that scapegoat would have been the likes of Cornelius Fudge and his odious Undersecretary, and rarely people such as Lucius Malfoy. But all the usual suspects had been downed in recent months, downed by the same man that Albus was certain had orchestrated the events that were seeing him ousted: Ares Peverell.

Albus looked at the papers from the past few days scattered across his desk. Headlines blared up at him: _Tournament of Death, Dumbledore Deposed, Black Freed,_ and _McGonagall Succeeds Dumbledore_ were the top headlines. The Tri-Wizard Tournament had been officially banned from ever being resurrected due to a unanimous vote from the International Confederation of Wizards since every single champion was now confirmed as deceased, despite the precautions put into place. Dumbledore, as the headmaster of the host school and in a vulnerable position, had been removed from his post and held responsible for the deaths in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Minerva had been promoted to interim Headmistress, but Albus wondered how long it would take before she was removed due to her own 'contributions' to the events that led to the Tournament's dark end.

Sirius Black had been freed when Ra's al Tanin, who had presumably stopped the resurrection of Voldemort, had sent Peter Pettigrew back to Hogwarts with the Portkey. The information revealed in the questioning of Pettigrew, performed on site by Rufus Scrimgeour, had revealed not only that Dumbledore had cast the Fidelius Charm for Pettigrew (Lily Potter had been a Charms Prodigy but even she had failed to cast the Charm, leaving them to turn to him) but also that Voldemort had briefly returned and killed Harry Potter before being killed, in turn, by Ra's al Tanin. A team of Aurors and Unspeakables dispatched to the graveyard had discovered the remnants of Harry's body and found Voldemort's body as well, confirming him to be dead. With the knowledge that the man who controlled the League of Shadows had killed the previously thought-dead Dark Lord, people were beginning to question the narrative that Dumbledore had contributed to, and a full inquiry had been launched into Harry Potter's years at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore sighed to himself and, with a wave of his wand, began to collect his personal belongings. He was returning to his childhood home, now the only structure still standing in what had been the village of Mould-on-the-Wold, to live out what remained of his life in exile. The British Wizarding world would not accept his counsel on any level, and those who he would once have turned to for aid or to cultivate a relationship with had either shunned him or been killed by Ra's al Tanin and the League of Shadows. Never had Dumbledore considered he would be so thoroughly destroyed in life; he had expected such actions in the aftermath of his death, when he would not be able to counter such moves and his allies may find themselves outnumbered by his detractors.

**_*HPDC*_**

"Lord Black," Rufus Scrimgeour acknowledged his next appointment as the man entered. "I am glad to see that you do not hold the sins of the past against the Ministry of Magic. Many in your position would not be so lenient, and few would blame you."

"I can either live in the past, or work for a better future," Sirius replied with a shrug. "I had a long time to think when I was in Azkaban and afterwards, on the run. I have some suggestions, if you will, for you to consider in moving forward. Especially in light of the… recent tragedy with regards to my Godson."

"Yes, you have my condolences," Rufus replied. "Lord Peverell mentioned he had met the boy once or twice and thought he had a bright future. What is it you suggest?"

"As we saw with my own case, there may be individuals who are locked up that haven't committed the crimes they are accused of," Sirius replied. "I would suggest an immediate retrial of all of Azkaban's current occupants. I would also revisit the method of punishment for crimes. We should not be treating common thieves who are desperate for food or money to buy something they need for their families the same as we do murderers and rapists like the Death Eaters. I would wish the Dementors only on those who truly deserve it. We should consider financing and building a new prison for more common crimes."

"Something you should propose in the Wizengamot as well," Rufus replied.

"Lord Peverell already intends to," Sirius replied with a shrug.

"Speaking of the Death Eaters… do you believe they should be retried?" Rufus asked.

"If only to confirm their crimes are accurate under Veritaserum," Sirius said. "And if they are… I would suggest the Veil or the Kiss. Their worst memories may in fact be the very things they get joy from. My cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, certainly found joy in whatever the Dementors brought up to her. Such individuals are _beyond_ redemption."

"Fair points, and one we will examine both in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and in the Wizengamot," Rufus acknowledged. "Any other business?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "I would like to donate to the D.M.L.E. With Voldemort's brief resurrection having been announced, those who share his values will be emboldened, and the League of Shadows likely hasn't taken them all down. Our Aurors and Hit-Wizards will need the best equipment possible. I would like to help make sure they had what my godson and his parents didn't: a fighting chance."

**_*HPDC*_**

When Albus appeared at the edges of Mould-on-the-Wold, he was not surprised by the figure in black waiting for him, seemingly without a care in the world. Ares Peverell gave him a nod of acknowledgement as Albus allowed the satchel containing his shrunken belongings to slide off his shoulder and fall to the ground. "I thought I might find you here," Albus said. "Harry."

"How long have you known?" Ares asked, remaining seated while conjuring a seat for Dumbledore, who took it.

"I had my suspicions since our conversation in my office," Albus replied. "Though the appearance of this older persona you have created threw me off for a time. However, in the end, it was Voldemort's resurrection, brief though it was, that confirmed it. In fact, one might say the brevity of Voldemort's resurrection was the final clue."

"The prophecy," Ares said. "You know, I've never understood the fixation people who get up there past 100 have on things like prophecies. You are not the only megalomaniac I came to know who became fixated on a prophecy. Ironic, considering you once accused me of being the same."

Dumbledore tilted his head in confusion for a moment before it hit him. "Ah," he said quietly. "I hadn't considered time travel as a factor. How far?"

"Twenty-five years," Ares replied. "You should be glad I made the choice, Albus. This way, wizarding Britain has a chance. Last time, I had no choice but to wipe them and their corrupt society from the face of the Earth. Admittedly, it was a part of my ascension, but I admit I got a certain degree of pleasure in completely wiping out those who had allowed corruption to take hold of their hearts."

"I was the one you told Severus about," Albus surmised. "When you told him that you had never known love because of another. That is not true, Harry. You have known love."

"No," Ares replied coldly. "The one chance I had at knowing love was taken from me by _you_, Snape, and Voldemort. The Weasleys, aside from Fred and George, have shown they are fair weather allies at best. Or did you think that Molly Weasley could overcome her inbred prejudices? I can't help but notice a distinct lack of her over-mothering presence since I was sorted into Slytherin… not that I'm complaining. But if my interaction with the Weasleys was supposed to be how I knew love, then your delusions are far deeper than I ever thought."

Dumbledore sighed. "I can see there is no reasoning with you. Why did you come here, Harry? I do not think you are one to simply gloat."

"No," Ares replied. "I'm not. After you sent your little pets after Sirius, I made a promise. I'm here to fulfill it. I have taken all your positions of power and your allies; I have destroyed those who would follow you; corrupted those you would wish to cultivate new relationships with; and now the final part of the promise is at hand. I will take from you that which you desire most of all: to move on to the next great adventure."

Ares and Albus sprang into action at the same time. Ares summoned a ball of fire into his hand, harnessed from the elements, and thrust it towards Dumbledore, who conjured an aquatic shield to block the spell. A stone ripped from the ground and hurtled towards Ares, who flipped out of the way and landed in a dueling stance, casting a shield as Dumbledore cast a stronger version of a Stunning Spell.

"Come now, Albus, attempting to capture me?" Ares asked, as he fired off a bone-shattering hex, which Dumbledore deflected into a crumbling stone wall. "I am not going to be redeemed," Ares grunted as he blocked a Petrification Curse (somewhat surprised at Dumbledore's use of Darker magic), "nor will I allow myself to be locked in Azkaban." Ares shot off a series of stunning spells to disorient the older wizard as he closed the distance between them. "There is only one way this can end," Ares said, now on the defensive as Dumbledore shot a flame whip from his wand; an aegis shield protected Ares as he moved forward. "To beat me, Albus," Ares said, as he pushed some of his magic down his right leg, "you're going to have to have to kill me." Ares, now in striking distance of the old man, lashed out with a right kick, using the magic he had pushed into his leg to augment the strength of the kick.

An audible crack could be heard as Ares' kick contacted Dumbledore's ribs, and the old wizard shot backward, tumbling head over heels as Ares landed in a crouch, wand at the ready. Dumbledore wheezed as he stood on shaky legs, mentally calling for Fawkes, but his long-time companion didn't come. "He won't answer you this time, Albus," Ares said as he moved forward. "I told you, he is a creature of balance. So long as Voldemort lived, he needed to keep you alive to counter the Dark Lord. But with Voldemort dead, there is only you, and balance cannot be maintained so long as a Light Lord lives and a Dark Lord does not. I am a Gray Lord, before you go thinking otherwise," Ares added, seeing the protest in Dumbledore's eyes. "Anti-Apparition and Portkey wards will keep you from escaping. Now, Albus, will you die on your knees like Voldemort, or straight-backed and proud, the way a wizard of your caliber should?"

Dumbledore remained silent, and Ares reached out with his own senses. His eyes widened briefly before he somersaulted backward, avoiding the leaping cougars that Dumbledore had transfigured from the surrounding stone. Ares took note of the veritable zoo of animals Dumbledore had transfigured and made a mental note that he _really_ needed to avoid the bad guy monologue thing. It never ended well, he knew, so he really should have avoided it. "Dirty ploy, old man," Ares said, "and ultimately futile." Ares summoned Fiendfyre, directing it at the animals around them, and flamed to Dumbledore's side as the man inched away from the flames. "Don't worry, Albus," Ares said, casting a perimeter shield on the Fiendfyre at the same time he directed a wandless cutting curse at the old wizard. The cutting curse sliced through the former headmaster's wand, and the shockwave of power that erupted from the destruction of this timeline's diluted Elder Wand sent both wizards stumbling a bit; that same shockwave of power attracted the attention of other parties, not that Ares was aware of it for the moment.

Ares watched as Dumbledore crawled away, drained from the fight. Dumbledore, as he had told Ares in the previous timeline, was no longer a young wizard and his reflexes, as well as his energy reservoirs, were not what they had once been. He raised his wand. "Goodbye, Albus," Ares said, summoning up every ounce of hatred he had for the man who had caused his life to become so consumed by darkness. "_Avada Kedavra!_" The jet of green magic shot from Ares' wand and struck Dumbledore in the small of the back. The former headmaster stilled, and Ares moved forward, turning the body over with his foot. Dumbledore's eyes stared up without any of the sparkle or fury he had in life, and Ares gave a cool, if sinister, smirk. "Promise kept."

**_*HPDC*_**

"Please have a seat, Lord Peverell," Minerva McGonagall said as the man in question entered her office. Despite the efforts of some of Albus' enemies, she had been able to maintain her position as Headmistress of Hogwarts and was now looking for people to fill key positions on the staff. "I know you had differences of opinion with my predecessor, but I hope that does not predispose you in terms of offering aid to Hogwarts when asked for."

"Hogwarts is a school," Ares replied, "and any facility dedicated to the education and protection of our children should receive full support, no matter one's personal views on its staff, present, former, or future."

"I am glad you feel that way," Minerva replied. "I understand you are busy with the Wizengamot and re-establishing your family's holdings, but we are in desperate need of a qualified teacher in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your brief duel with Albus at the Yule Ball aside, your scores in Defense were well above anything most of our previous teachers had and the majority of those I would ask are either being recalled to the D.M.L.E. or currently work for the Department of Mysteries. I was hoping I could convince you to join us this coming school year as our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Headmistress McGonagall, it would be my pleasure to help train those who hold the future of our world in their hands," Ares replied. "But I won't handle the fourth years and above with kid gloves. If this world wants them to leap right into the real world after their seventh year, then they're going to deal with the harsh realities of the world early, too."

"I hope you realize the problems that may bring you," Minerva replied carefully.

"I'm ready for it," Ares replied.

"Then I shall see you on August 30," Minerva said. "Please send me a book list for your subject, one book for each year, no later than next Friday."

**_*HPDC*_**

"Well, this is interesting," Damien Darhk mused to himself as he looked over the display his technicians were showing him. H.I.V.E. were one of the few to have learned how to interface magic and technology and use it efficiently, and they had traced several large power spikes in the United Kingdom in recent weeks. Darhk looked to his wife, Ruve, who was also his primary researcher. "Do we have any idea what caused it?"

"We do," Ruve replied. She pulled a copy of England's wizarding paper out of her purse. "It appears that the Dragon's Claw has chosen a bearer. The League of Shadows is once more active and operating out of Britain, and they have for several months according to our contact in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"You know, I've always liked Britain," Darhk mused. "So dark and gloomy, truly the kind of place you'd expect a guy like me to live. As a warlock and former member of the League of Assassins, I should probably introduce myself to the new Ra's al Tanin. It's only proper, isn't it?"

"Indeed, my love,' Ruve purred. "I do love wizarding society's aristocratic nature."

_**A/N: If I **_**do**_** manage to do a sequel, it will involve Ares facing off with Damien. That will certainly cause some ripples in the Arrowverse timeline. **_

_**Oh, and yes, there was some heavy influence from Slade Wilson in Ares' final confrontation with Dumbledore. **_


End file.
